Headhunter
by Rowena DeVandal
Summary: Post X:2. Logan recalls part of his past prior to Weapon X, but he finds a conspiracy darker than he ever imagined. Unrelated to my other stories. Rated M, language and violence. More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing...Logan and all other Marvel characters belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox...Chris Snow, Bobby Holloway, Sasha Goodall, Doogie Houseman, Orson, Roosevelt and Mungojerrie all belong to Dean Koontz...so please don't sue me, cuz i don't have anything...i spent all my tax return buying stuffed monkeys for my sick fiancee...:)

**Author's Note:** This story was inspired by several different things coming together at the same time...first, i was working on a new Wolverine wallpaper for my computer while listening to Front 242...I had to go to work and took a book with me called "Fear Nothing" by Dean Koontz...the last song i heard was still running through my head, which is called "Headhunter" by the aforementioned band...this story is split into four parts, each part headed by a line from the chorus of the song...now, this is NOT a songfic...Also, this story has NOT been beta read...my usual beta reader, Turiel Tincdaniel, is not familiar with either of the books starring Christopher Snow and the citizens of Moonlight Bay, so she admitted she wouldn't be of any help in regards to characterization or tone of those characters...now, if any of YOU have read those books (which includes "Seize the Night") and would like to beta read the rest of the story, that would be FANTASTIC!

This story takes place after X:2 and "Seize the Night", but before X:3 and is completely unrelated to my other stories...enjoy!

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**Headhunter **

**By Rowena DeVandal **

**Part 1. **

"_One, you lock the target_."

Chapter 1.

_I heard the voices before I saw anyone, but you could tell by their cadence an' tone that they were career military, some brand of bigwigs whose idea of "going into combat" meant they sat at a base at least five miles from the actual front an' radioed all their orders in. Hell, they were probably so completely absorbed into the military life that they made their kids drop an' give 'em twenty if a quarter didn't bounce off a freshly made bed. Dickheads, the lot of 'em. Someone please shoot me if I ever get that far. _

_In the meantime, I've been sittin' in this goddamn exam room so long I'm startin' to wonder what the fuck I'm doin' here. "Random physical" is what they told me, but these assholes should know by now that I don't need a physical. I'm in better shape now than I was fifty years ago and that's sayin' somethin'. Especially considerin' I don't look a day over thirty-five and I probably never will. Well, that's what happens when you're a mutant. _

_I hear them stop outside the door and lower their voices so I couldn't overhear them. Unfortunately (for them) I have much better hearing than a normal human; in fact, all of my senses are much better than normal humans (silk sheets are enough to drive me crazy with how good they feel). I can also heal from any injury, no matter how severe. I haven't found anythin' that can keep me down forever. That all sounds pretty good, right? Well, I also have a hidden feature, something no one's ever expecting. I have nine-inch claws that come out from between my knuckles on both hands and a tendency to lose myself if I'm enraged. Ya know how they say not to piss off that Banner guy, you wouldn't like him when he's angry? Yeah, the Hulk's a pussy, I'm sure of it. _

_At any rate, they stop outside my examination room and try to keep me from hearin' their conversation, but I can anyway. I can smell 'em, too; one of 'em is wearin' Old Spice (yeah, he's got kids all right) and the other one smokes the shittiest cigars I've ever smelled (if he's not a bachelor, I pity his wife). I hear 'em shift around a bit, like they don't want to be overheard before they continue their conversation. _

_"So, why'd we bring this guy in again?" _

_"I don't know. The top brass said we need to give him a full work-up and collect as many samples as we can without raising his suspicion." _

_"How are we supposed to know what we're looking for if they won't tell us?" _

_"Look, Barton, when it comes to shit like this, it's usually better not to ask too many questions. Come on, do you really think they're gonna be able to pull this off anyway?" _

_"I don't know." Barton replied reluctantly. At least I had a name for one of them. "I mean I know Stryker's got some kind of special project going, but it still doesn't explain some of the weird shit I've seen going on in here." _

_"Look, just get in there and talk to the guy, the doc'll be in a few minutes later. Just give him the normal bullshit military crap he's expecting and it'll be fine." _

_There's a long pause and Barton sighs. "I hope you're right. If what I've heard about this guy is even half true, he's a mean son of a bitch." _

_"Which is probably what Stryker likes about him so much." There's another pause. "I gotta go. Just get in there and get this over with." _

_I hear the other guy walk away, takin' the shitty cigar smell with him. Great, so Old Spice is my cruise director for this thing. I have a ton of questions that I can't ask, since I wasn't supposed to hear all that anyway, but two of them are more important than the rest. Number one, why was I, a member of the Canadian military, asked to come to Fort Wyvern in California? Number two, why would Stryker, well known as a scientist in weapons development, be interested in me? _

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I sat straight up in my bed, swearing. Dreams of bein' in that freaky tank with the Darth Vader wannabes shovin' foot-long needles under my skin I was used to. They still woke me up screamin', but at least they were consistent, predictable. What the fuck was that shit?

I stumbled to the bathroom an' splashed some water on my face. What all did they say? Something about gettin' samples, I remember that. But it seemed like they didn't know much more about my bein' there than I did. What was so odd about it? Oh yeah, I was in the Canadian military, but this was an American base in California. I tried to remember, but the name eluded me. Shit, this was new, different an' scary as all fuck because it had to have happened before Alkali Lake an' I have reason to believe that it wasn't just Alkali Lake that made me what I am today.

I went back into my bedroom an' switched on the light. The digital clock said it was only four-fifteen in the morning, but I wasn't gettin' anymore sleep, not after that. I figured I'd go for a run 'round the grounds an' talk to the Professor once he got up. I threw on a pair of sweats an' a tank top before grabbin' the running shoes I'd finally broken down an' bought. Part o' me is still havin' a hard time acceptin' that I'm part of the team here, an "X-Man". It ain't like I've been part of a team in recent memory. So the concept of havin' a lot o' stuff (like more than one pair o' shoes, for example) is pretty foreign to me.

I switched off my light an' made my way outside. I could tell that the only other person up at this hour was that kid who never slept, Jones. I disengaged the alarm on the back door, making sure to reset it once I was outside. It's a new feature that the Professor installed after Stryker's little home invasion. I don't know if he's completely forgiven me for the bloodstains yet, but hell, those guys came here loaded for bear, not a bunch o' sleepin' kids an' I wasn't about to give 'em the benefit o' the doubt. There's a bunch o' cameras an' other stuff around the perimeter now too. Nothin's too good to keep my people safe.

I stretched out for a few minutes, then set out at a brisk jog to start with. I don't actually need to run for any health reasons, my mutation takes care o' that. But it's a nice mindless exercise that sometimes jars things loose in this extra-dense skull o' mine, 'specially when I'm not sure what it is that's lurkin' in the corners. But as I ran, the more I could see about that dream or memory or whatever the fuck it was. I could see the exam room, which looked the same as a thousand others in doctors' offices all over North America. The stupid paper gown was the same, the reproduction of some abstract painting was the same, even the smell an' the temperature were the same (antiseptic and fuckin' cold). The guys outside the door were military, I'd bet my life on it, but neither one was the actual doctor. An' they'd mentioned Stryker. That bastard is rottin' beneath a couple hundred feet o' water up in Alberta an' he's still hauntin' me. Maybe I'll go up there someday, drag up the corpse an' burn it or bury it in salt.

I could hear the local wildlife startin' to wake up around me, small animals and birds just gettin' started for the day. Sunrise was still a couple hours off, but these little guys had to be up early enough to get the good stuff before the bigger guys woke up an' made things difficult for them. Yeah, I know I'm named after a nasty bugger with a mean temper, but I feel more in common with these littler animals, which just try to stay one step ahead of the rest to survive. Ain't that what I've been doing for the past fifteen years? Just tryin' to stay one step ahead of the past, so it can't catch up to me and do me in once and for all. I know it's stupid, to be afraid of things I can't even remember. Maybe I don't remember because I don't want to. More likely, I don't remember because someone didn't _want_ me to. But what coulda happened before Alkali Lake that was so terrible that they'd go to such lengths to strip it away, takin' everything that happened before it along for the ride? As I ran, I got the feelin' that this new memory was part o' the key to that.

As I came around to the back of the mansion again, I saw lights startin' to go on in the windows. Those would be the girls' rooms; they felt they needed to get up an hour before anyone else to make themselves presentable or somethin', I don't know. I've known women who could go from sleep to sex kitten in twenty-five minutes or less, but these teenagers were way into their daily rituals. For all I know, they had to sacrifice a goat to the mascara gods before they could start the day. But I knew if I was ever gonna get a hot shower, I had to go in now or be stuck with one in the "refreshingly arctic" range. I crossed the lawn at a run, paused on the patio for a quick cool-down and went back inside. Now that the mansion was alive, it was safe to turn the alarms off for the day.

I musta dawdled a bit too long with my cool-down; the shower I got was warmer than a penguin would like, but not by much. I pulled on my daily uniform of jeans, t-shirt an' boots and made my way down to breakfast. Rogue, Kitty an' Jubilee were all already there lookin' barely alert yet perfectly made up, not a hair out o' place. I definitely needed to look into that goat angle; it's the only thing that made sense. I grabbed a cup of coffee and huge plate of scrambled eggs and toast, then wandered over to their table.

"Mornin' ladies, you're lookin' chipper this mornin'." I said as I sat down. Rogue gave me what I called the "hairy eyeball", which is a one-eyed glare through her hair. I smiled and dug in.

"Logan, how can you be so…awake in the morning?" She groaned, picking at her toast.

"Well, the mornin' run does wonders to get the blood movin'. You should try it."

"Ugh, that sounds like work." Jubilee said, grimacing.

"It's less work than you lot go through just to go to classes in the same house you live in, ya know."

They collectively rolled their eyes at me an' I gave 'em a smirk in return. I like teasin' the girls, though Summers is always telling me not to. Seems a few of 'em have crushes on me (Lord knows why) and he thinks I'm actin' "inappropriately". Shit, it's not like I'm a teacher here or anythin'. Well, maybe a few classes here an' there on stuff like martial arts an' other self-defense. Who else is gonna do it? But they all act kinda afraid o' me during class, so I don't think it's a bad thing for them to think of me in more than just "scary claw guy" terms. Besides, they're all way too young for me.

The girls finished their breakfast and left to do whatever else it was they needed to do before their first classes. I sat back and lingered over my coffee, watchin' as some of the other kids came trickling in. I wasn't teachin' anything, so I had a whole day to kill. I also knew that Chuck didn't have any classes for at least an hour, so I figured I'd go ask him to poke around upstairs and see if he could dislodge anything useful from this new memory of mine.

I approached his office and noticed the door was ajar. I didn't even get a chance to knock before his voice echoed in my head, inviting me in. I closed the door behind me an' crossed to the sofa.

"Logan, good morning. What brings you here today?" He asked, although part o' me is certain he never starts a conversation unless he already knows what the other person wants. Telepaths are damn pesky that way.

"I had a dream last night an' it was…different from the others. Older, I think, but I don't know by how much."

He hit the lever on the arm of his wheelchair an' came 'round to the front o' the desk. "Interesting. What do you remember?" I gave him all the details I could manage. "Very interesting. And you're positive you were in California?"

"I'd bet my life on it. Hell, I'd bet your life on it, I'm too hard to kill for my life to be a good bet." I leaned forward. "I want you to read my mind, see if you can get more out of it than I can remember."

"Logan, we've been through this before…" He began, but I cut him off.

"Spare me the shit, Chuck. I know what you said before an' I'm not askin' you to make sense o' anythin'. I just want ya to read this one little thing an' tell me what ya see. Outside perspective an' objectivity or whatever."

He sighed. "Very well, Logan. Close your eyes, try to relax."

I complied an' I could feel the heat radiating off the palms of his hands as he put them on either side o' my head. I took a deep breath an' relaxed as much as I could. I might not look it all the time, but I'm pretty high-strung, always ready to throw down at a moment's notice. You never know when a fight might break out. After a coupla minutes, I heard him sigh again an' his hands moved away. "Well, anythin'?"

"I think so. Does the name 'Fort Wyvern' mean anything to you?"

I searched the few truly coherent memories I do have an' shook my head. "No, nothin' concrete. It gives me a feelin' though. Kinda like dread."

"And here I was beginning to think nothing could rattle you." He replied dryly.

"Hey, I get rattled by plenty. I just don't show it."

"Your secret is safe with me." He wheeled himself back around the desk as a knock came at the door. "I believe that's my first class for the day." He steepled his fingers, thinking, then came to a decision. "I'll make a few inquiries over lunch and with luck I'll have a few answers for you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." I stood up an' let the kiddies in, closin' the door behind me. Fort Wyvern. I didn't know why, back then, but the name sent a shiver down my spine, like someone just walked over my grave. Whatever it was that happened back there wasn't nice an' somehow, it involved me. It figures. Seems like all I have back there is bad shit, ghosts and regrets. I'd give a kidney for one happy memory, I really would.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I was tunin' up my motorcycle (ok, it's really One-Eye's bike, but I claimed it as my own an' he hadn't claimed it back yet) when the Professor's voice filled my head. 'Logan, please meet me in my office for lunch when you're done there.' Good, he must have gotten somethin' for me.

'Gimme ten minutes, I'll be there.' I sent back. I wiped the grease from my hands an' returned the tools to the correct boxes. I was tempted to rearrange everything in 'em, just to see how long it would take Scott to go into a ragin' fit of OCD, but decided to be nice just this once. He wouldn't thank me for it, but it would keep him out of my face. He'd relaxed a bit since Jean died an' I admitted that she ultimately chose him over me, but there was still tension there. Not that I can blame him, really. After all, I'd done the one thing that no one else had ever been able to do; I gave him doubt about Jean. I'd be a dick to me too if I were in his shoes.

I washed the last of the grease off my hands an' wandered to the Professor's office. There was a nice lunch laid out for us and, unbelievably, a beer for me. I coulda kissed him on his little bald pate for that, but settled for a raised eyebrow. "What's the occasion?" I said as I sat down.

"I don't want you to think you can make it a habit of having beer around the kids all the time, but I also realize it's unfair of me to make you go out to some bar every time you want one." He said. "And since it looks like you'll be leaving us for a while, I thought I'd relax and let you enjoy one in peace while you have a chance."

I raised my beer, but didn't get a chance to take a drink. "Leavin'? For what?"

"I made a few discreet inquiries about Fort Wyvern." He began. "It's now decommissioned, but there are certain…individuals in the town that it was formerly a part of who feel that it's not completely abandoned."

"Why don't I like the sound o' that?" I asked. I had a very bad feelin' about this.

"Because you have a natural distrust for anything that has to do with the military, no matter which military it is."

"Ok, that's a fair point." I took a long drink of the beer. It was a nice English stout, great flavor. "So who are these 'individuals'?"

"I have a friend or two in California who heard rumors that there were a number of secret projects going on at Fort Wyvern. At least one of these involves genetic experimentation." I almost dropped the beer in shock, but managed to save it. Alcohol abuse is a terrible thing. "I see that got your attention."

"Hell yeah it did!" I said, a little louder than I intended. "Do you think it has anythin' to do with what I saw?"

"I don't know. It's possible that your mind will reveal more of that period to you over time, as with some of your other memories. But I will say that the rumor also includes a troop of genetically altered rhesus monkeys that supposedly escaped a secret lab under the fort." He looked at me intently. "Not much is known about them, except that they are much smarter and more vicious than their wild counterparts. It's also been rumored that they brought something out with them, but no one knows for certain. And, of course, the government isn't talking about it."

I sat back with my beer, suddenly worried. "Do you think they were usin' mutant DNA on those monkeys? Tryin' to engineer somethin'?"

He shook his head. "As I said, there's no concrete evidence. But I can tell you this much. The majority of the base _is_ abandoned. I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult for one person of your singular talents to get in there unnoticed and poke around, as it were."

"Which you knew was exactly what I would want to do as soon as you told me this." I rubbed my eyes. On the one hand, I had it really good here. A steady job teachin' the kids, a real bed to sleep in, friends I cared about (like Rogue an' the Professor) not to mention a chance to kick asses on a semi-regular basis. On the other hand, I'd definitely dreamed I was in a military facility of some sort an' they'd wanted samples of me for somethin'. "Yeah, you're right. I wanna go, as soon as I can."

"Of course you do, which is why I've asked Storm to fly you out there as soon as you're ready." I smirked at him. "Come now, you are a bit predictable when it comes to your quest for answers. Do you want anyone to go with you?" I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. "I figured as much. Well, whenever you want to go, she'll take you out there. I'll give you a cell phone to take with you, so you can call when you're ready to come back."

"Thank you." I said, my voice just a little rough. "I'll keep you posted on what I find out."

"I'd expect no less." He put a napkin in his lap and gestured to me. "Now let's enjoy our lunch."

It felt like I'd barely closed my eyes when I fell asleep that night. I wasn't used to that, it usually took me longer to get into a good enough mental place for sleep to happen, but this was different. It was like my mind was eager to get back to Fort Wyvern, so it dropped me on my ass as fast as it could.

_Old Spice Barton came an' went an' a few minutes later the doctor came in carrying a thick file. She was definitely not what I was expectin' in a military doctor, in that she wasn't all that old an' she was a knockout. I was at least polite enough not to stare, but she still smiled as though she knew that I had given her a once over when she walked in. Well, I did. Sue me. _

_"Hello, Major Logan, I'm Dr. Snow." She said, shaking my hand. "I'm sure you're wondering why you were invited here." _

_I raised an eyebrow. "Invited? With all due respect, ma'am, this is the military. They give orders, not invitations." _

_She laughed an' it was a very nice sound. "Very true, major." She pulled out one o' the chairs that sat against the wall from the exam table an' sat down, crossing very shapely legs in the process. I took a quick glance at her hands an' felt instantly disappointed; she was married. "Well, let me see if I can explain this to you. The United States and Canada are thinking about forming a joint task force to counter terrorism. We foresee a day where acts of terror might even be carried out on domestic soil and we think it's in our countries' best interests if we work together. However, we need soldiers who are in the best physical shape to do this, the best of the best as it were." She leaned forward and folded her hands, looking me right in the eye. "We also need people with singular…advantages over the regular soldier. Do you know what I'm talking about?" _

_I narrowed my eyes, pretty sure I did know, but I wasn't about to admit that. "No, actually, I don't." _

_She sighed and sat back. "I won't lie to you, Major. Something tells me you'd know if I was lying anyway, so I'll give it to you straight." She stood and crossed over to me. "We need mutants. But only the strongest mutants. And although you've done a remarkable job of reinventing yourself over the years, we have the resources to track you back further than you can imagine." _

_She handed me the file an' gestured for me to open it. As I turned the pages, I realized she wasn't lyin' to me at all. This file had shit in it that went back seventy-five years at least. Yeah, these people were good, too good. I was suddenly very afraid. "What the fuck is this?" _

_"It's not blackmail, if that's what you're afraid of." She said, sitting back down. "We have no intention of telling anyone about your mutation. But we do want to do a complete genetic profile of you, because your particular mutation could be beneficial on a much wider scale than just military applications. Now, since you're already here, you can just give us a few blood samples and we'll send you on your way." _

_"What if I don't wanna give you any samples?" I was gettin' angry, never a good thing. _

_"Then you don't have to. We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. But if we can isolate this healing factor you seem to have, it's possible we can engineer a lesser version of it that will work to help us cure countless diseases, help reverse conditions previously thought to be permanent. You wouldn't just be serving your country, you could serve the entire world." _

_Damn, this lady was good. She knew just what buttons to push, that's for sure. I sighed and closed the file, setting it down next to me. "What the hell? It's just a couple pinpricks, right?" She smiled at me. "But this is it, right? You're not gonna use this to build some unkillable army, are ya? Maybe fashion antidotes to some really nasty biological weapon you're all cookin' up?" _

_She looked at me an' her eyes could have cut diamonds, they were so hard. "Major Logan, I am a doctor. I would rather die than see my work misused in such a disgusting manner." _

_"Then why are ya workin' with the military?" _

_Her eyes widened; that struck a nerve for sure. "It's purely financial. I can get more money for my work here than I can through any university on the planet". She busied herself readying the vials for the blood samples. "I also have some…personal reasons for my work, but those are not your concern." She swabbed my arm with an alcohol pad an' inserted the needle. She filled three vials, but before she could even put the cotton ball over the wound, it healed over. Her eyes widened at that an' I could tell she wanted to stick me again for shits an' giggles, just to see it again. I hopped off the table an' grabbed my pants. _

_"Are we done here?" I asked, jerking the pants on so hard they almost ripped. She nodded mutely an' I tore the gown off an' grabbed my shirt. "Good. Now get me the hell outta here." _

I sat straight up in bad, sweating. Sunlight was comin' in through the windows, so at least I made it through the night this time. But I got a lot more out of this dream than the last one, stuff that would be a lot more helpful to me. I now had the name of the one person I needed to talk to the most: Dr. Snow. Whoever she was, she had answers that might lead to how the hell I wound up in a tank at Alkali Lake.

I took a quick shower, dressed an' threw some clothes in a bag. I didn't want to wait one more minute; I needed to get out to that base. The clock told me it was quarter til eight, so I knew everyone I needed would be up an' about. I went to the Professor's office first, knockin' on the door before goin' in. He was in the middle of a class, but I didn't care. He knew why I was there.

"So, you're ready to go?" He asked. I nodded. "That's fine. Say good-bye to Rogue or she'll never forgive you. I'm sure Storm will be ready to go when you are." He handed me the promised cell phone and a charger.

"Thanks, Professor." I never called him Chuck in front of the kids. "I'll let ya know what I find." A couple of the kids waved an' I said good-bye to them before leaving. Rogue was in a class with Scott right now. Seein' him would be fun. Like root canal or a prostate exam. I just walked right into the class, interrupting him in the middle of his lecture. "Hey, can I talk to Rogue for a minute?"

I'm pretty sure he glared at me. It's kinda hard to tell with those glasses he has to wear. "Can't this wait until the class is over?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"No, it can't." I crossed mine, starin' him down. We stayed that way for a minute before he gave up. He gestured to Rogue an' she came out into the hall with me.

I closed the classroom door an' she looked down an' saw my bag. Her head whipped up an' she gave me a deathly glare. "You're leavin'." It wasn't a question.

"Uh, yeah, I am. For a little while."

"Why?"

"I've been rememberin' other stuff, from before Alkali Lake. I have to track it down, see if it tells me anythin' important."

"Logan, how many times do we have to tell you that it doesn't matter who you used to be? It's who you are now that matters!"

"I know!" I said, sharper than I intended. I lowered my voice. "I know. But damn it Rogue! There has to be somethin' back there that isn't all bad, full o' pain. You, of all people, should know what it's like in this head o' mine."

She lowered her eyes an' I could tell she was starting to cry. I wrapped my arms 'round her shoulders an' she hugged me around my waist. "It's just…I worry about you, all the time. You were the first person who really helped me after I left home. And you did promise you'd take care of me. How can you do that if you're not here?"

"Hey, listen. Chuck gave me this newfangled gadget called a 'cell phone'. If you need me for anythin', you can just call me, ok? An' if it's really important, I'll come right back."

She sniffled. "You promise?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I promise." She looked up at me and I kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Just behave yourself, don't get in trouble, you hear me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother." We both smiled. "An' you take care of yourself, ok? I know tellin' you not to get in trouble won't help, it just follows you. So be careful, got it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, mother." Now we were laughing. She stepped away from me an' lifted her gloved hand in a half-hearted wave. I shouldered my bag an' made my way down to the hangar, where Storm already had the jet ready to go. My motorcycle was also strapped in the back, which made me very happy. I was afraid I'd end up walkin' everywhere. I buckled myself in an' she looked over at me, shootin' me a dazzlin' smile. As the jet rose into the air, I saw several people lookin' out the windows an' wavin'. I never expected it, but I was gonna miss this place. I had a home again an' it felt good. I just hoped I'd still be able to come back to it when this was all over.

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**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Special Note:** Doogie's last name is Sassman...i blame a combination of exhaustion and watching my taped episode of "House" for the error in his name in my disclaimer...third shift does odd things to the brain...:) My apologies for any confusion this may have caused...i return you to your regularly scheduled crossover, already in progress...

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Chapter 2.

As soon as we got in the air and on course, Storm explained a few things to me. "The town you'll be staying in is called Moonlight Bay," She began. "It's pretty small, only about twelve thousand people, but it's got a couple decent motels for tourists. It's also pretty well known for having some great surf from time to time."

I looked at her sideways. "Do I look like a surfer to you?"

"No, not exactly." She chuckled. "And I'm sure your metal skeleton makes you more of a sinker than a swimmer. But I thought it was worth mentioning as a point of interest, since it doesn't have much else."

"Ah, gotcha." I peered out the front windows of the plane. The Blackbird is beyond state-of-the-art for aircraft an' it can reach some pretty insane speeds. It also has some kinda anti-radar thing goin' for it, which is very helpful when one is plannin' on infiltrating a quasi-operational military base. On the other hand, if they even tried to take this thing by force, I'm sure that Storm would simply lob some lightning and massive tornadoes in their general direction til they backed off. I've been workin' on Chuck, tryin' to convince him that this thing needs conventional weapons installed, but he's still balking at the idea. I'll soften him up in time. For now, Storm is all the weaponry it has.

The view out the front of the jet was striking, but admittedly a bit lost on me. I'm not crazy 'bout flyin', somethin' I don't tell most people. It ain't that I'm afraid to fly, but I'm pretty sure even I would have a hard time survivin' a plane crash an' I hate to tempt fate by gettin' on one. But we were well above the clouds (which I'm sure Storm was responsible for), so it was all blue skies above and white fluff below, a very relaxin' view to say the least. I didn't even realize I'd nodded off til I found myself back at Fort Wyvern…

_I've been here two days an' they've run every test on me they can without physically attemptin' to cut somethin' off an' see if it grows back. I don't even know if that would happen an' I'm not inclined to let them try. I've been through cardiac screens, endurance tests, speed, agility, you name it. I think they may have invented a couple o'__ tests just for me. Every time, there's a group o' bigwigs on the sidelines whisperin' to each other an' nodding. Cigar guy is there, along with Old Spice Barton. Dr. Snow conducts all the tests an' in this short amount o' time she's already learned to read my moods. I don't know if they all know I'm a "filthy mutie" or not, but it wouldn't surprise me. She's very obviously a paid civilian working with the military on this "special project", but I sometimes wonder if she's even aware of everythin' going on within this project._

_Thankfully, today it's all about testin' my senses. I've already been through the eye screening an' they kept movin' me back from the chart in three foot increments til we ran outta room an' I could still read the thing perfectly. Funny how they did that test in an airplane hangar, so that's a whole lotta room to run out of. I've also already done the hearin' test, which was an odd one. The actual range that I can hear isn't all that far off from normal humans, maybe a little more into the higher and lower ranges than normal humans. But then they had to invent a test 'cause I overheard Cigar Guy complainin' that my hearin' wasn't that special, so I went up to him an' recounted the conversation he'd had with Old Spice outside the exam room. He seemed impressed that I heard that, so they tested me in the same hangar in much the same way they tested my vision. He seemed even more impressed when I could recount the conversation he had with Dr. Snow at normal conversational volume across the noisy hangar._

_Now, they're testin' my sense o' smell. I don't think it had occurred to them to test that until I finally broke down an' asked where the PX was so I could try to find some unscented bathing products. I simply can't stand the way the scented stuff smells, they over-perfume everythin' an' I felt like I smelled like a French whorehouse. I'm sure to normal people it was just a regular soap an' shampoo smell, but to me it was worse than overwhelming. Whoever it was I asked musta told someone, who told Cigar Guy, who told Dr. Snow to test this, too. I didn't know what she had in mind til she took me outside the lab an' into the base proper._

_"What the hell is this?" I asked, lightin' a cigar (a good one, not like the cabbage leaves Cigar Guy was smokin')._

_"Well, it came to our attention that your sense of smell might be just as enhanced as the rest," She said. "So, we're going to test it."_

_"No shit, Doc. I coulda told you that." Her scent didn't bother me at all. Either she was accustomed to usin' fragrance-free products or her own natural scent complimented what she used so well that it was more or less part o' the whole. Whatever, it just added to the disappointment that she was married an' seemed disgustingly happy with the situation. "But I don't see what this has ta do with your project."_

_She smiled. "We just want as much information about you that we can get. It'll make it easier for us in the long run." I grunted an' glared at her. "Major, I assure you, we're not going to be using any of this information against you in any way."_

_"Fine, whatever. Let's just get this over with. What am I doin'?"_

_"Follow me," She said an' I walked with her over to a group o' ten soldiers. They were so alike in bearing an' demeanor that they'd started to look the same. "We're going to play a little game of 'hide and seek', if you will'" She began, then gestured to the soldiers. "These men and women have each been given a specific location they are to go to. After ten minutes, you'll try to find them. This base is over a hundred and thirty thousand acres and they will be scattered throughout the whole place, but only in the surface areas. We're giving you six hours to find them all and send them back here to base, 'home free' to keep in the spirit of the game."_

_I raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Just sniff these guys out in six hours?" She nodded an' I snorted. "An' here I thought you wanted to challenge me or somethin'."_

_"You sound pretty confident."_

_"I am. I'm the best at what I do."_

_"And just what is it that you do for Canada?" Ah, here's some info she wasn't given. Well, she still wasn't gonna get it._

_"If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya," I said with a smirk. She simply nodded as if it confirmed something for her. "So, let's get this show on the road."_

_She gestured to the soldiers, then took me back inside the hangar so they were out o' my line o' vision. I don't know if she'd expected me to give them all a good sniff or somethin', but I didn't need to. Everyone has their own scent below the basic smell of "human". I could tell that one guy was carryin' a tin o' wintergreen Skoal chewin' tobacco, but another was tryin' to quit smokin' an' had at least one pack o' Juicy Fruit on him. At least two of 'em wore the same cologne (Drakkar Noir, unless it really was Deep Woods Off; they smell the same to me). But one of 'em was also nursin' a nasty hangover an' was tryin' to combat it with a little hair o' the dog (Jack Daniels). One of 'em had eaten Italian for lunch an' positively reeked o' garlic, another had had Chinese an' smelled like a soy sauce factory. Three of 'em were women, one of which was havin' her time o' the month, so she'd be easy enough to find. Of the other two, one used a moisturizer that smelled like vanilla an' the other used some product with a distinctly musky fragrance. Oh, an' that one also thought I was attractive. I wonder if she's single? The last soldier had to have been married, he smelled so strongly o' fabric softener sheets an' I have never met a soldier who ran Bounce in the dryer._

_I waited the required ten minutes an' just as Dr. Snow clicked her timer, I moved outside an' sniffed deeply. I could already tell more or less which directions they'd all gone in, but since I was unfamiliar with the layout o' the base, I wasn't sure which one had gone the farthest. It ultimately didn't matter, I was gonna win this game an' with time to spare. Four hours an' thirty-nine minutes later, I was right._

_I had intentionally saved the woman who'd been attracted to me for last, so I could walk back with her an' get at least a little acquainted. Her name was Kristin Banks, twenty-five years old an' plannin' on bein' career military, just like her father an' her brother. They'd both been Navy, but she had issues with "big water" an' decided the Army was more her speed. She was single (yes!) an' had some free time later that evening. I hadn't been told I couldn't mingle with the locals, so to speak, so I made plans to meet her at the local enlisted club for drinks. Since I was technically a "guest" here, I was given a room off base at a fairly decent motel, courtesy o' the United States. At least we'd have some privacy for the really fun parts of the evening. As we walked up, Dr. Snow gave us a knowing look before stoppin' the timer._

_"Well, Major. I see you now that you weren't exaggerating," She said, making notes on a clipboard._

_"Yeah well, I told ya I'm the best at what I do," I replied with a smirk._

_"I'm sure you are." She made a couple more notes, then looked at me. "Well, I think we're done here for today. Enjoy yourself, don't get in too much trouble." She gave me a half smile an' walked away._

_I turned to Kristin. "Well then. Why don't we go get more comfortable an' I'll meet ya at the club?"_

_"Sure, no problem." She let her eyes run over me appreciatively before walkin' away. Oh yeah, this would probably make all this crap worth it..._

I jerked awake, more than a little disoriented til I realized I was still onboard the Blackbird. Storm looked over at me, an unspoken question written all over her face. "Just a dream. Guess you could say they're leadin' me to where we're goin'."

"Ah, I see," She replied. "Well, at least they seem to be an improvement over the old ones."

"Hell, dreamin' 'bout Freddy Kruger givin' me a prostate exam would be an improvement over the old ones."

She shuddered. "Thanks so much for the visual. I'll have to scrub my brain before I go to sleep tonight."

"Don't like Freddy, huh?"

"No, it's the thought of you naked that's scaring me." I glared at her, but saw the amusement in her eyes. "I'm kidding! You're definitely not a frightening looking specimen. At least until you pop your claws out. That's a different Logan entirely."

I snorted an' stretched. "So, where are we?"

She checked a couple gauges. "Almost there, actually. I'm just trying to find an inconspicuous place to set down so we can get you and your motorcycle unloaded."

I just nodded an' a few minutes later she found a fairly isolated bit o' scrubland 'bout five miles outside the town limits. We got the bike down the ramp an' I strapped my bag to the back. Once it was secure, we stood there for a minute before she unexpectedly gave me a hug. "Be careful, Logan. We'd all miss you if you were gone."

I didn't know what else to do, so I hugged her back. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. They ain't invented the thing that can kill me yet." I pulled away from her an' she took a step back.

"Just, be safe, ok?" I nodded an' she smiled before turnin' an' gettin' back on the jet. I straddled the bike an' started her up, resistin' the urge to use the crazy turbo boost thing that Summers had installed on it. He doesn't seem like the "need for speed" kinda guy, so I'm still wonderin' why it's there (unless he added it just because he could). I rolled a bit down the road an' waved at the jet as it lifted off. I waited til she was out o' sight before headin' towards Moonlight Bay an', just maybe, another piece o' the puzzle that is my life.

I actually took my time gettin' into the town proper. I could smell the ocean long before I actually saw it an' I was hopin' that one o' those "halfway decent" motels that Storm mentioned would be near the water. I've always liked the sound of the ocean; the repetition of the waves crashin' on the beach is soothin' like almost no other sound (the only thing better are the sounds a woman makes when we're in bed, but I wasn't gonna hold out on meetin' anyone in this little town). I rode through the scrub to the highway an' took that west til I came to another one that went north an' south. On a hunch, I turned to the south an' rode that way for a little while.

What most people don't realize about California is that it has every type o' terrain you could ask for, everythin' from serious desert to pine forests. This area was a little scrubby, but it eventually gave way to the type o' terrain you'd expect to find somewhere in the Midwest, like Ohio maybe. So, this was more like central California, which was good in that the weather might not get too hot. I eventually came to another road heading west an' I took that one into the town.

It was a little bigger than a one-horse kinda place, but not by much. Still it was big enough to sport fast food chains, franchise carryouts an' gas stations that weren't called "Big Earl's Gas and Eats" or some shit like that. I rolled into one o' the stations for directions an' a snack. Now, it doesn't matter where I go, I usually get a few stares or even rude comments because o' my hair an' sideburns. However, this was California, home o' the really weird, so I didn't get the same stares as usual. No, these stares were the ones that people in small towns reserve for any strangers, no matter what they look like. Hell, I coulda been Brad Pitt for all they cared, I still would have gotten that same stare til they figured out "Hey! That's Brad Pitt!" or decided I was an impostor. I went to the cooler in the back an' grabbed a soda, but I could feel eyes on me the entire time. I wandered up an' down the tiny aisles, grabbing some beef jerky along the way before going to the clerk.

I asked him about a decent motel that was along the ocean an' he looked up at me curiously. "You don't look like a boardhead," He said, almost hostile.

"I'm not. I just like the water," I replied, tryin' to keep the irritation out o' my voice.

He made a sound like "hmph" an' rang up my order. "Well, there's one not too far from the point called the Ocean View. It's popular with the boardheads cuz it's pretty cheap without being ugly about it."

I handed over my cash. "Sounds great, thanks. How do I get there?" He gave me directions as he handed me my change. I thanked him an' left.

The sun was just settin' as I got to the motel, a breathtakin' sight over the Pacific. I paused outside to watch it sink below the horizon before going into the motel office to check in. I had a fake driver's license that I'd been usin' for the past few months under the name "Logan Sharpe" (a joke that never ceased to amuse me). I was pleased to see that it offered weekly rates, so I rented a room for a week but told the manager I might want more time if I was havin' a good enough time. He seemed to understand an' said to just let him know what I decided at the end of the week. He handed me a room key (number nineteen) an' I walked back to my bike. Before I could get on, though, I noticed somethin' odd. As soon as I left the office, the manager picked up the phone an' called someone. I acted as though I was adjustin' my bag on the back, but kept an eye on him all the same. I couldn't hear what he was sayin' through the glass with the ocean in the background, but he did glance out at me at least twice during the conversation. Was this small town gossip about the weird non-surfin' guy at the surfer motel? Or was this someone who might know who I was? I didn't want to confront the guy just now, so I played it cool an' went to my room.

As low-end motels go, this one wasn't livin' up to the reputation of its brethren. I had an amazin' view o' the ocean through the large window, the carpet was a nice shade of jade green an' the wallpaper an' spread on the queen-sized bed actually matched it. The bathroom wasn't huge, but the water ran hot on the first try an' it was so clean it gleamed. The television wasn't even bolted to the dresser. It felt absolutely posh compared to some o' the places I've stayed an' I started thinkin' 'bout makin' this a real vacation after all. It wasn't overly warm out, so I opened the window to let the scent o' the ocean in as well as the sound. Yeah, I could really get to like it here.

I relaxed on the bed for 'bout an hour before decidin' to find myself a nice little bar. I figured that a down an' dirty dive bar would be right out in a town like this, but I was hopin' to find one that didn't sport ferns in every corner an' golf on the television. It took a little doing, but I managed to find one that fit the bill perfectly. As I rolled up, I noticed that I didn't have the only bike here. Someone else had parked an absolutely gorgeous Harley-Davidson near the door an' I stopped to admire it before goin' in. Someone really loved this bike; whoever he was treated it the same way you should treat a woman, with love an' a gentle hand. As soon as I walked in, a quick scan told me there was exactly one person in the whole place who could possibly own that bike. I ordered a Corona an' sat at a table near the man in question.

He was maybe two inches shorter than me, but probably outweighed me by at least seventy-five pounds. He had long blond hair an' a beard that put the guys in ZZ Top to shame. What I could see of his arms was covered in tattoos an' had the look that told me his entire torso was probably covered. But the most shockin' part o' the whole picture was the absolutely stunning brunette sittin' with him. Think Angelina Jolie, only ten times more gorgeous. I know, it's not easy to imagine that, but I swear it's true. I was happy to see an ashtray on the table in front o' me, so I covered my shock by lightin' a cigar an' takin' a huge drink from my beer.

Fortunately, I didn't have to make the first move here; the man-mountain did that for me. "Hey, you new around here?" He asked.

I just raised an eyebrow. "Yep. Just got in." I took a drag on my cigar. "Wanted an ocean vacation but didn't wanna deal with a bunch o' tourist types. It's bad for relaxation."

The guy laughed. "Yeah, no shit. We don't get tourists, just surfers and they don't count. They just follow the waves."

"Well, I don't surf. I just rode til I found a place I liked."

"Rode huh? Kinda figured you for the bike type. Whatcha got?"

"It's a custom job. Has some nice features." Yeah, like record-breakin' turbo boost. "That your Harley out there?"

"That's my baby." The girl smacked him an' looked indignant. "Hey you know how it is, Alicia. A man's bike will always be his first love." He grinned at me. "So what's your name, stranger?"

"Logan Sharpe."

"Doogie Sassman." I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. But no one gives me shit about it."

"I don't blame 'em." I finished my beer an' a waitress appeared out o' nowhere to replace it. "You can usually count on people to be stupid, but even the stupid ones get a clue now an' then."

He laughed at that an' raised his beer in salute. "You know it brother!" He polished off his beer then stood up. "Well, it's nice to meet ya, anyway. I have to get in to work. Enjoy your stay."

Doogie an' Alicia left, but I stayed long enough for another beer. It was weird, really. On the one hand, I had to find some way onto that old base. On the other, this was a really nice, laid-back kinda town an' it would be easy to just take my time on it. But I was certain that Rogue would have no problems layin' me out flat if I wasn't back in a week, so I resigned myself to some major legwork tryin' to figure out where to find it. I finished my last beer, threw some cash down for a tip an' walked out.

The night was pleasantly cool thanks to a wind comin' off the ocean. I decided the first thing I needed to do was acquaint myself with the layout o' the town, see if there was anythin' around that might be helpful. Little did I know that a monkey, a man an' his dog would be the keys that led me to where I needed to go.

* * *

**AN: **Two down, who knows how many to go:) Super special thanks go out to Dee (MidLifeCrisis), Ineluctability, Bluebell, Scarlett and Levanna for reviewing...to Dee, Ineluctability and Levanna: Unlike previous stories, new reviewers will not guarantee new chapters, since this is simply my primary distraction from my main series...:) I only have a few chapters done on this one and i will update as often as i can, but i make no promises...also, since the alert system here doesn't seem to be working and the support pages to report that seem to be missing, i have put together a yahoo group for anyone who wishes to receive alerts for when i update or post a new story...the links for that can be found in my profile...:) 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

I was cruisin' aimlessly through the town, just gettin' a feel for the place. It was serious nighttime by now, so the streets were pretty deserted an' that's always the best time to do a little recon on unfamiliar turf. There's a lot less chance that you'll be seen an' since I was new here, it wouldn't be out o' place even if I were to be pulled over by a curious cop. However, I assumed there wouldn't be many police on patrol in a town this small an' I was right. In two hours, I only saw one patrol car an' it passed me without so much as a glance.

This town was much like every other small town that I'd been through. I tended to stay in ones even smaller than this, just places on the road for long-haul truckers an' other migrant types to rest for a few days between jobs an' those mostly in Canada. Anything larger usually had a police presence that I tried to avoid, but since Stryker was long gone, the feelin' of constant pursuit that I'd had for so long was fading. I know in the back of my mind that there has to be other people out there that know who an' what I am, but I ain't runnin' from 'em anymore. They want me, they can come find me. It doesn't mean they'll get me.

The streets were laid out in your basic grid pattern an' there wasn't really a "bad" neighborhood. It was like this whole town was a Midwestern subdivision that had been plucked out o' Bumfuck, Ohio an' came to rest here on the central California coast. I'm sure I woulda been stir crazy within the first five minutes if I knew for a fact I'd be stayin' here the rest o' my life, but since I was just visitin' I figured I'd be all right. It seemed to be a very nice town, but I kept havin' the eerie feelin' that I was bein' watched. I looked 'round as I rode, but I never caught another person anywhere within sight or scent o' me. I knew I couldn't rely on hearing over the sound o' my motorcycle, but it was really startin' to creep me out. I made up my mind to ignore it as best as I could til I could get a bead on it.

There were few houses with lights or televisions on at this time of night, which didn't overly surprise me. It woulda been creepy in a larger town, but it's par for the course in these smaller ones. I made my way back towards where I'd come into town, figurin' I could use the gas an' grab somethin' to eat besides the beef jerky snack I'd had earlier. I would need both types of fuel if I was gonna find that base before the end o' the century. I decided to use the other gas station this time, since the gas was a penny cheaper (gotta save what you can with prices bein' the way they are these days). Once I finished that task, I pulled into one of the fast food places an' ordered enough food to last me til morning. I don't normally like to eat in those places, everythin' tastes over-processed, but I didn't see anythin' like a real restaurant or even a mom-an'-pop diner still open at this time of night.

I took my food outside an' ate at a table that was chained to a tree in the grassy area near the parking lot. It felt like the night had gotten as cool as it was gonna get, so I lingered there a bit, sippin' my soft drink an' smokin' a cigar. I wondered absently if anyone in there had made an abrupt phone call to someone as soon as I left, but I didn't worry 'bout it too much. Sometimes, bein' what I am, I feel like a freak among other freaks anyway an' if these small-town assholes wanted ta gossip about me, that was fine. As long as I didn't get too much unwanted attention from anyone over it.

I finally decided to get movin' again an' cruised back in the vague direction of my motel, but instead of goin' back there, I rode through what passed as "downtown" in this place. It wasn't much, just a small collection o' boutiques an' souvenir shops for the real tourists, a surfing gear shop, the expected mom-an'-pop restaurant, a bank an' not much else. A few blocks later, I came to what looked like the high school, complete with baseball an' football fields. Again, it coulda been any school anywhere in the country. It probably smelled just like all the others do. I think it's somethin' they put in the floor polish to make 'em all smell the same. I took a right, goin' past the school an' saw a few lights on inside. Probably just the janitorial staff doin' its job. The school fell behind me an' I was once again in a residential area. I took the next left an' continued my aimless ridin'.

About twenty minutes later, I decided to pull over for a few minutes, get the blood goin' in my legs an' have a smoke when I felt like someone was watchin' me again. I slowed my bike to a speed just fast enough to stay upright an' scented the air, but I didn't smell anythin' out o' place. Lucky for me, there was a stop sign, so I used the opportunity to take a look 'round, but that wasn't helpful either. My vision is just as good at night as it is in full daylight, but I didn't see anythin' lurkin' in any o' the shadows in my immediate area. I decided to nix the smoke idea an' turned right at the intersection, keepin' the speed legal. After 'bout ten minutes, I had just about decided that maybe it had been my imagination when somethin' darted out in the road in front o' me. The limit on this street was thirty-five, but I was so surprised by the appearance of somethin' that fast that I hit the brakes a little too hard, flew over the handlebars an' slid at least twenty feet down the road. I was a little stunned an' my nose felt broken, but my healin' factor was already workin' on the road rash on my hands an' face. Before I could sit up, I heard the sound o' feet behind me. I thought it might be a good Samaritan comin' up to see if I was all right, so I was surprised when I saw…a monkey.

It looked just like a regular rhesus monkey, maybe a little on the large size for the species. I raised my head to get a good look at it, then started to get myself in a sittin' position. That was my first clue that this wasn't a normal monkey, because the rhesus can be skittish an' this guy didn't even move a muscle. In fact, he sat there givin' me a serious once-over. I finally got myself seated when another sound caught my attention: a bike chain an' what sounded like claws on pavement, comin' in fast. A second later, I heard barking (confirmin' the claws) followed by a pretty mean snarl. The monkey an' I both looked in the direction of the sound an' my little friend did the strangest thing. He made a sound somewhere between a human scream an' an angry growl an' took off runnin' in the opposite direction. I tried to stand to pursue him, but a hand on my shoulder pushed me back to the pavement. It took a great deal o' effort not to shove it away, but I managed.

"Jesus, pal, are you ok?" The man asked. I looked up at him an' was a little taken aback. He was about my height with blond hair, dressed all in black including gloves an' sunglasses. Wait, sunglasses? In the middle o' the night? What the hell is that about?

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a minute." I turned away from him as I felt my nose beginnin' to right itself an' the last thing I needed was some small-town mutant witch huntin'. I heard the guy lean his bike against a nearby tree an' come back. As he approached, I detected some oddities about his scent. Underneath the normal human scent, I smelled coconut (suntan lotion?), gun oil an'…somethin' else. It eluded me for a bit until it clicked. This guy had no scent o' sun on him. For those who don't realize it, the sun affects your body chemistry in very subtle ways. Even if you're not one o' those crazy sun-worshippers who try to bake themselves into shoe leather, it still burns you a little bit. It's the same with your hair. But if this guy had seen the sun in the past twenty years or so, I'd have been extremely surprised. Finally, my nose finished healin' an' I turned to him. "Didn't think there'd be any nightowls 'round here." I said.

He sighed heavily. "No, not many. Mostly it's just the two of us." He nodded to the dog.

"Ah, daytime's overrated anyway. Too damn many people out." I looked around for the monkey, but it was long gone. "Where'd our friend go? He all right?"

He shrugged. "Hell if I know. But shit man, how are _you_? I saw you dump your bike, are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Skull's made out o' steel, I swear." Ok, adamantium, but close enough.

"Weren't you bleeding a minute ago? I could have sworn you were bleeding." About then, a black Labrador mix came over to him an' sat down. As with the monkey, I got the same feelin' of being scrutinized from the dog, but with less hostility.

"I dunno, maybe my nose a little bit." I reached up an' felt my forehead. Shit, there was a pretty good streak o' blood on it, probably from a cut I didn't feel 'cause healin' a broken nose hurts like a bitch. As I did that, the dog took a step towards me an' sniffed for a few seconds before sittin' back down an' giving a chuff.

"Hm. Still, why don't you come to my house, get some of that blood off you. It's not that far, just a couple doors down."

I weighed my options here. I couldn't just pretend like I hadn't had an accident, 'cause he'd seen it. Also, this guy here had seen the monkey an' the dog had gone out o' its way to scare it off for some reason. That made me think back to what Xavier had said 'bout a troop o' monkeys that had escaped Fort Wyvern an' taken somethin' out with 'em. Could that have been one of 'em? "Sure, why not?" I said, gettin' to my feet an' actin' a lot shakier than I actually felt. "So, what's the story with the monkey? Someone's pet get away?"

The man smiled bitterly an' shook his head. "No, nothing that simple." He said cryptically an' went to retrieve his bike. I walked back an' righted the motorcycle, once again marveling that Summers had built this thing to take abuse. What, did he have a touch o' psychic himself? Did he know that it was gonna be stolen by someone with a history o' gettin' hurt in a variety of ways? I decided to walk the bike so this guy could keep up with me, so I wheeled it over to where he an' the dog were waitin'.

"That's a nice mutt you got there. What's his name?" I asked.

"This is Orson. He's more like family to me than a pet. He's kind of…special." What was with this guy an' the cryptic? "I'm Chris." He held out his hand an' I shook it.

"Logan. Just here for vacation. Didn't expect wild monkeys." We started walkin'. "So, they here for atmosphere or was there a mass defection from a zoo or somethin'?"

Again he smiled bitterly. "No, not a zoo, but they are escapees of a sort." He sighed. "It's just a really long story is all."

I nodded. "Fair enough." I followed him as he turned up a driveway to a very nice lookin' Craftsmen-style house with trees crowdin' the front yard. I noticed that all the shades were drawn, which was odd even for California. Most people like to be able to see out, even if it means everyone else can see in, but this guy seemed to live like a hermit. He looked vaguely familiar, but nothin' about him stood out in my living memory. I compared his face to those I'd seen in the dream that brought me here, but he didn't match any o' those people either. Curiosity finally won out. "Hey, ya look familiar. Ya ever get out ta New York?"

He chuckled an' it came out soundin' bitter. What the hell's with this guy an' all the bitter? An' I thought _I_ was cynical. "No, never. I've never left Moonlight Bay in my entire life." That brought me up short an' he chuckled again. "But you might have seen me in _Time_ magazine a few years ago." He opened the door an' the dog went in ahead of us. He stopped in the entry an' lit a candle, preceding me through the house an' lightin' at least one in every room. I hung back a little to let my eyes adjust an' took a look around. Hangin' on the wall was a photo that had been taken when he was just a toddler. It was a family portrait, him with his parents, but what shocked me was the fact that he was sittin' on the lap o' someone I knew. It was Dr. Snow from Fort Wyvern all those years ago. I stared at it for a long moment, more than a little shocked, then turned to follow him into the kitchen. When I did, I saw I was starin' down the barrel o' a Glock 9-millimeter.

"Who the fuck are you and how did you know my mother?" He asked.

* * *

**AN: **Hehehehehe...cliffie...:) But not the first one, i promise...yeah, i'm evil...but ya love me anyway...:) (or at least like me enough to keep reading!) Special thanks to Zac for beta reading, such as it is...it's really more like hand-holding, since this is my first crossover and he's the only person i know who's read the books that spawned most of the characters Logan will be dealing with...But my Super Swanky Special thanks go to my reviewers, who were Dee (MidLifeCrisis...if you haven't read her stories, you really should!), Levanna and Tahlmorra...now, if you're reading and haven't reviewed, please do! I can't promise an immediate update like i do with my main series, but i do like to hear from new people...it just make me happy...:) I'll try to have the next update out in a week to ten days max, i still have some kinks to work out...:) Like finishing the story...:) 

Also, i previously reported that i started a Yahoo! group to send out alerts for my stories because the alert system here wasn't working...that will remain in place, since we all know the alert system will go down again...it's only a matter of time...so, if you'd like to join, the address is http://movies.groups. or you can send an email to instead...i may even post teasers of my other stories as well...:) Lastly, if there's enough interest, we can use the list to discuss not just my stories, but yours as well! Get tips on writing, finding a good beta reader or just talk about the X-Men movies/comics/cartoons or heck, just chatter away...:) But no matter what, i will keep it there for the next time the alerts here stop working...hope to see you there!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

I had to suppress my first instinct, which was to pop my claws an' shred the fuck outta this guy, 'cause it was obvious that he was gonna be important to my quest somehow. Also, they tend to scare the shit outta people an' if that happened, he'd probably shoot me outta pure reflex. An' as we all know, shootin' me just pisses me off. So, I did what a normal guy would do; I put my hands up an' took a small step away from him.

"Whoa, hold on bub. No need for that," I said, tryin' to keep him calm.

"Fuck that. I saw you. You recognized my mother in that picture, didn't you?" He leveled the gun in the middle of my face an' took on a classic shooter's stance. "Now answer the fucking question."

I had two options here. I could lie my ass off an' hope he'd believe me (doubtful), or I could tell him the truth an' hope he didn't shoot me for bein' a dirty mutie (probable). There was no way he could know that shootin' me wouldn't hurt an' he especially couldn't know that the bullet would probably ricochet right off my face an' hit him instead. Still, I knew I could disarm him an' gain the upper hand before he had a chance squeeze the trigger. I decided the truth was worth the risk.

"I told you the truth, my name is Logan," I said. "I didn't really know your mom. I met her here over fifteen years ago, at Fort Wyvern."

He shoved the gun closer to my face. "Don't fuck with me, asshole! If you had anything to do with her death, I swear to God…"

"Hey hold up!" I said, takin' another step back, yet preparin' to grab the gun if I had to. "I didn't even know she was dead! I didn't know her that well, they had me here ta do some kinda analysis on me."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'analysis'? Not genetic testing?"

"If they were testin' anythin', they didn't try it on me. I swear to you, it was some kinda analysis." I sighed. "I won't shit ya, kid. I don't remember a lot about it. A lot's happened ta me since then."

He was still eyein' me skeptically when the dog came over an' sat right next to me. Chris looked down, lookin' for all intents an' purposes like he was expectin' the dog to talk to him. Maybe he did, in his own way, 'cause he looked up at me, licked my hand then turned to Chris an' made that chuffing sound again. Whatever passed between 'em must have made sense to him, 'cause Chris lowered the gun an' jerked his head towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's get a beer and you can tell me what you know." He walked away with the dog followin' at his heels.

I was still a little dubious 'bout this guy, but the dog stopped in the archway to the kitchen, looked at me an' chuffed again. For some reason, that put me at ease, which didn't make sense at the time. After all, it was just a dog, right? It's not like it really knew what was happenin' here.

Chris was already seated at the table, three vanilla candles burning in votive cups an' three bottles o' beer on the table in front of him. He handed one to me (Heineken, the kid had okay taste) along with a damp dishtowel for my face, then cracked one open an' poured half of it into the dog's bowl. I raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anythin' as I took a seat. Chris finally popped open the last bottle an' sat across from me. Neither one of us said anythin' for a few minutes, we just sat there drinkin' our beers an' sizin' each other up while I cleaned up as much blood as I could with the towel. Finally, I broke the silence. "So, what's the deal with all the candles? Forget to pay the bill?"

He smiled. "No, nothing like that. It's because of my condition. I have XP."

I stared at him, my mouth hangin' open like an idiot. For those o' you who don't know, xeroderma pigmentosum - XP - is a rare genetic disease that affects a very small percentage of the population. These people are not albinos, they do have pigment in their skin. They simply lack the ability to repair the damage that UV rays from all types of light do to your skin every minute of every day. You an' (especially) I don't realize this is goin' on all the time, but it does. About the only light that someone with XP can safely be around is firelight: candles, lanterns, things of that nature. Otherwise, the damage done to those afflicted is cumulative an' even a few minutes of exposure a day over the course of a few years can cause malignant skin cancers, blindness an' other neurological effects. Most people with XP don't live to see twenty. Now the lack of sun smell on him made perfect sense. "Shit man, I'm sorry."

"For what? I'm not sorry. I've already beaten the hell out of the odds, so I'm happy."

"How old are ya anyway?"

"Almost twenty-nine." I raised an eyebrow an' he smiled. "Like I said, I've beaten the odds. Plan to keep doing it too."

I lifted my bottle in a salute. "Here's to it." He raised his bottle back an' we settled back into silence. I wanted to ask about his mom, but there ain't really a good way to bring up the dead an' not seem like a total asshole. Especially when I hadn't really known her that well in the first place.

He took the ball outta my court. "Why are you here?" He asked. "I can tell you, precious little that's good came out of Fort Wyvern and the fact that you were there doesn't leave me feeling very safe at all."

I sighed an' ran a hand through my hair. "If I told ya I had a dream an' felt like I had to find that place, would ya believe me?" I asked.

He stared at me for a long time. Just before the silence became uncomfortable, he replied. "Yeah, I would. I might not have a few months ago but now? Yeah, I'd believe just about anything." He took another drink. "Were you stationed there?"

I shook my head. "No, not really. I was there for a little while, I'm not sure how long, on loan from the Canadian military."

"You're Canadian?" I nodded. "Why did they want you there? And what did you mean by they analyzed you?"

I had to decide how much to tell him. There were a number of reasons why I coulda been there, but somethin' told me that this guy would know fact from fiction almost as well as I would. "Well, the story that got me there was a joint American-Canadian anti-terrorist task force. Your mother was kind enough to tell me the truth." I took another long drink. "She wanted to analyze me…my DNA. I'm a mutant."

There, the truth was out an' it hung between us like a physical presence. His face didn't betray any emotions, but his scent changed just a little. Mostly nervousness, but nothin' like the fear an' outright hostility that most people give off when they hear the word "mutant". He sat back in his chair an' sighed, thumbin' the safety on his gun an' settin' it down next to his beer. "Damn. Of all the things I thought you were going to say, that was pretty far down the list." He leaned forward again an' folded his hands, a gesture so like his mother it sent a chill down my spine. "So, what's your mutation? Why would she have been so interested in you?"

It was then that it became crystal clear to me. Sure, the military applications of my healin' factor would be incredible. But she'd also said that she had personal reasons. Now, I knew what they were. "Well, I dunno how you're gonna take this, 'cause I can't say for certain. She never came out an' told me. But if I had ta guess, I'd say it was 'cause o' you."

"Me? I mean, I've figured out that she was trying to find a way to cure my XP, but if she ever got close I never found out."

"Yeah well, that's the thing. See, my main mutation is healin'."

"What, like laying on hands or something?"

I chuckled. "No, nothin' like that. I have a healin' factor. I can heal from pretty much anythin'. I never get sick, medications an' anesthetics don't work on me. Hell, I can't even get drunk." I swirled the dregs of my beer in the bottle before finishin' it off. "You were right earlier. I was bleedin', I broke my nose an' I'm pretty sure I took most o' the skin off my forehead. You coulda shot me right in the face with that Glock o' yours an' it woulda just pissed me off."

His eyes were so wide they looked like plates. "You're shitting me."

"Nope. Wanna try it?" I could see he wasn't tempted, but he was still skeptical, so I decided to show him anyway. I picked up one o' the votive cups an' stuck a finger right in the flame. It hurt like a bitch, but I held it there til the skin on my fingertip was black an' blisterin' before pullin' it out, then held it right in front of his face. I didn't think he could look more shocked than he already was, but he managed it when the skin healed over in a matter of seconds an' there wasn't even a hint that it had ever been burnt.

He reached out an' touched my finger, like he didn't believe what he'd seen, then looked up at me. "Holy shit, man. That was fucking amazing!"

I snorted. "Yeah well, it has a side affect that I ain't so happy about. It also heals the damage done by time. I'm a lot older'n I look." I stood up an' went to the fridge, helpin' myself to another beer an' sat back down. "In fact, I'm not really sure how old I am."

"Not sure…oh wait. You mentioned that you don't remember much about it. Why?"

"Well, that came later an' I swear to you, your mom had nothin' to do with that part. But some time after I went back to Canada, an American colonel named William Stryker decided that experimentin' on me would be great fun. So, he stuck me in a tank full o' chemicals, cut me open from head ta toe an' bonded my entire skeleton with adamantium." I took a drink from my beer. "An' he gave me these." I slowly slid out the claws on my left hand. Chris' eyes nearly fell outta his head an' I popped them back in. "I don't know, I guess somethin' in my mind just snapped. I barely remember gettin' out of that tank, killin' a bunch o' people an' takin' off naked into the snow. My next clear memory ain't til a lot later. I'd been breakin' into cabins to steal food an' clothes an' I remember wakin' up in one. It coulda been days, weeks, I'm not sure. That was fifteen years ago an' I didn't really remember anythin' before that til recently, when I started dreamin' 'bout Fort Wyvern."

Chris finished his beer an' went to the fridge for another. When he sat back down, he had another for me even though I wasn't even half finished. "Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know my mother. She never would have been a part of something like that. She'd have smuggled you out somehow." He cracked his beer open an' took a long drink. "What's adamantium anyway?"

"An indestructible metal. I've been put through walls, been hit with tree trunks, you name it, it's happened. And these claws o' mine can cut through anythin', 'cept adamantium. I think."

"Jesus. And I thought they did bad shit here." He shook his head. "So, you said that healing thing was your main mutation. There's more?"

"Yeah. I got heightened senses too. I could track ya through the entire town by scent alone if I had to." I took a long drink of my beer.

His eyes narrowed again. "What, like animal senses?"

Now I glared at him. "Look here, kid. I ain't no fuckin' animal, got it?"

"It's just…peculiar. Did you have them before Fort Wyvern?"

"What the hell does it matter? As far as I know, yes. I've been dreamin' 'bout them doin' a bunch o' tests for my senses."

He sighed an' relaxed, takin' another drink. "It's just…bad shit happened out there, okay?"

"Does this have anythin' to do with that monkey I almost hit?"

"Do you know anything about them?"

I shrugged. "A friend o' mine told me somethin' 'bout a troop o' monkeys escaped from some lab somewhere an' brought somethin' out with 'em. He didn't know what."

"Who's this friend?"

"Another mutant, in New York. He has contacts everywhere. He's the one that got the lead that brought me here."

Chris nodded an' I could tell he was debatin' what he should tell me about all this. "My mother was a theoretical geneticist." He began. "From what I've been able to learn, she invented some kind of retrovirus that was supposed to only introduce genetic material into other DNA to make things smarter, stronger or faster." He laughed bitterly. "It worked all right. It made those monkeys so smart they got away. What no one expected was that the virus would mutate into something that just might end the world."

"What, like a plague or somethin'?"

"Or something." He agreed. "It became contagious, got into people, a lot of people. Mostly those that were on base, but into the town too. When they closed the base, those personnel were sent all over the country and they took it with them. There's no chance to contain it and no way to figure out how far it's spreading or how fast. But the people who are infected are…becoming."

"Becomin' what?" I had a _very_ bad feelin' 'bout this.

"I don't know," He said with a shrug. "But sometimes it's just mental changes, they get really aggressive, violent. But for all of them, their eyes change." He looked in my eyes as though searchin' for somethin'. "They get that eyeshine like cats and nocturnal animals have. You don't have it and if your healing thing works half as good as I think it does, you'll be one of the only people who'll make it out of this thing alive and normal." I raised an eyebrow at that. "I know, it's crazy isn't it? Over ninety-nine percent of the population is afraid of the 'mutie freaks' and here you are, a mutant and quite possibly the only one that'll make it through."

"I just never thought anyone would consider me 'normal', even if I wasn't a mutant." I took a long drink o' my beer. "So what did ya mean by 'sometimes' it's only mental?"

"I've seen a few people who had physical changes as well. Like their bodies were changing, getting animal aspects."

"Shit. Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about myself."

He nodded an' we sat in silence for a bit. Orson came over to Chris an' gave him a pleadin' look, then glanced at the half beer still on the table, then back to Chris. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said he was askin' for the rest o' the bottle. Chris looked at him an' shook his head, but the dog made a pathetic whine an' looked at the beer again. Chris smiled an' shook his head again, but this time in defeat. "You're going to wind up with cirrhosis, you know that don't you?" He took the beer an' emptied the rest into the dog's bowl, who went to lappin' it up with gusto. I couldn't help but chuckle.

Chris sat back down an' took another drink of his beer. He looked like he was about say somethin' when a cell phone rang. I took mine out o' my pocket the same time he checked his, but it was for him. Naturally, I only caught his end o' the conversation (my hearin' is good, but not THAT good).

"Hey bro…yeah, got a guest….you'd never believe me if I told you…no, not over the phone…really? Sharky…why don't you come over here? No, shouldn't need it…well, maybe just in case…we'll ride it if it comes our way…" He paused for a long moment, looked up at me an' went back to his conversation. "Yeah, might have to go Dead Town…not too churly…I think we need to go…you'd have to meet him to believe it…he'll make chum out of them, I guarantee it…okay, see ya bro." He closed the phone an' looked at me. "You up for a ride?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, if I caught your end of the conversation correctly, it has somethin' to do with shark bait an' someplace called Dead Town. I'm guessin' I get to make the shark bait?"

"Only if we're not lucky."

"Right. And Dead Town?"

He stood up an' gathered the empty bottles. "It's what I call the old military housing at Wyvern."

I looked at him sharply. "You mean we're goin' there tonight?"

"Yeah. Have to do a little recon before we can plan an invasion, right?"

I suddenly decided I really liked this guy.

* * *

**AN:** Ooh, the plot thickens:) For the record, Chris Snow really does have XP in the books...it's not some clever plot device i came up with...and his mom the theoretical geneticist? Yep, she was looking to cure him...so wonder no more why i thought Logan fit into this world like a hand in a glove...:) Special thanks to all the usual suspects, but especially to Levanna, TnTornado and Bluebell for reviewing...:) Levanna and TnT should have gotten PM replies to their reviews...Bluebell: There will be more bits and pieces dropped here and there, don't worry...:) 

Also, i have posted a teaser for Levanna and anyone else who's interested of the 5th story in the Logan and Angela series on my Yahoo group...the address for it is in my profile...:)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

We sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes, just drinkin' our beers an' passin' the time. I can't lie about my disappointment that Dr. Snow was dead, but I couldn't think of a good way to come out an' ask about it. I know, no one would ever accuse me of bein' the tactful one, but I got the impression this guy had been through a lot in recent months an' I didn't wanna add to that. I know how it feels when the world seems to be aligned against you an' I didn't wanna come across as the enemy in this scenario. I was still strugglin' with how to broach the topic when the dog came back over to me.

Animals generally act one o' two ways 'round me; they either trust me immediately or decide I'm a predator an' run. Orson fell into the first category. I heard him finish lappin' up his beer an' come paddin' over to sit next to my chair. I glanced down at him an' he stretched his head forward an' started sniffin' my hands. He gave a thin whine, not in fear or discomfort, but soundin' for all the world like he was askin' me "why?". I raised an eyebrow an' he started to lick my knuckles, almost like he knew what was there an' how much they always hurt me. I lifted my hand to his head an' gave him a good scratch behind the ears, which caused him to wag his tail an' look at me appreciatively. With a last lick to my hand, he crossed over to Chris' chair an' curled up beside it.

When I turned back to him, Chris was lookin' at me with a curious look on his face. "What?" I asked, sluggin' back more beer.

"Orson never does that." He said, indicating my hand. "I mean, he'll sometimes do it when he thinks someone is hurt, but you're not. Well, not anymore. And he never does anything like that to people he doesn't know."

"Animals are a lot smarter than people. They ain't fooled by their eyes." I pulled out a cigar an' stuck it in my mouth, but I didn't light it. I didn't see any ashtrays around an' I didn't wanna smoke in his house unless he gave the go ahead. "Animals know things."

He chuckled. "You sound like a friend of mine. Don't suppose you can talk to animals too?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I usually scare 'em off." I chewed on my cigar, thinkin'. I decided that now was the best openin' I would get to ask about Dr. Snow. "So, was your mom's project the only thing happenin' out there?"

He shook his head. "No, not by a longshot. There was another project, called 'Mystery Train'. I think they were trying to invent time travel, but they fucked it up in that great way that only the military can manage." He finished his beer an' sat there rollin' the empty bottle between his hands. "I don't know what it is they actually invented, but it was mondo weird."

"Fair enough." I took the cigar out of my mouth. "Did your mom have anythin' to do what that?"

"No, I don't think so. Like I said, she was a geneticist; I can't imagine how her work and that project would have been connected."

I nodded, then took a chance. "What happened to her?"

He sighed an' sat back in his chair. "She was killed in a car accident a few years ago. Although I've also been told that she did it on purpose." A brief shadow o' pain flickered across his eyes. "I think she found out they were screwing with her project, using it for something other than what she thought they wanted it for. I don't really know and there's really not a lot left at the base that I've been able to find." He glanced up at me. "But I am damn certain that parts of that base are still active, underground. And I'm sure it's got to do with her work and the monkeys and the people who are becoming."

"Do I even _have_ to say that I don't like the sound o' that?"

"No, because I don't like it either. But there's been too much weird shit around here for me to believe otherwise."

I hear a car approachin' the house an' went on guard. If what this kid was sayin' was true, it was possible that this house was under some kind o' constant surveillance. The last thing I needed was a bunch o' military fucks bustin' in here an' tryin' to take me back to that fort. I just hated the thought of gettin' that much blood all over the house of a guy I'd known less than two hours. However, Chris stood as soon as he heard the car, crossin' back to the front door. I just sat there with my beer an' waited.

When he came back, there was another guy with him. If you were to imagine someone that looks like they embrace the surfing lifestyle with complete gusto, this would be your guy. He wasn't the blond haired-blue eyed California poster boy, but he had the same type o' build you'd expect from a surfer. He was also wearing a pair o' loose jams, sandals an' the most God-awful Hawaiian shirt I've ever seen, green with coconuts an' hibiscus flowers printed on it. He was a walkin' fashion nightmare an' comin' from me, that's sayin' somethin' an' it ain't good. The only thing that ruined the image was the pistol-grip pump-action shotgun he was carryin', slung casually over one shoulder. When they got to the kitchen, he simply nodded an' dropped bonelessly into a chair, leanin' the shotgun against the table leg. Chris went back to the fridge an' handed out beers all 'round before returnin' to his chair.

"Bobby Holloway, this is Logan Sharp. Logan, Bobby." He said, crackin' his bottle open. This kid was gonna be three sheets to the wind before we got anywhere.

Bobby nodded at me an' just said "Bro" before poppin' his own beer open an' drinkin' deep. He was quiet for a moment before turnin' to Chris. "So, Dead Town? Again?" Chris just nodded. "Damn."

"Yeah, I know. But it's for a good cause." He replied, lookin' at me.

"Well, before we go, I just gotta tell you. Looks like we'll have some good glassy waves here day after tomorrow. Ten footers at least, blowin' in from dusk til dawn."

"I know what you're trying to do."

"Hey, I'm just sayin' bro. They're like a gift, just for you."

"I understand."

Bobby turned in his chair to look Chris right in the eye. "Do you? You keep pokin' your nose in over there, someday they're gonna poke it back. And I'd hate for you to miss out on some of the tastiest surf of the season because of another 'good cause'." He took a long drink. "Don't forget what almost happened the last time. I don't think we can borrow anymore time out there."

"We're not going there, Bobby." Chris replied, glancin' at me again. "I think all we have to do is get our new friend out there."

"Really?" Bobby turned to me, gave me a quick once-over an' turned back to Chris. "Is he what you couldn't talk about over the phone?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah. I think he might have had something to do with mom's work."

Bobby was out o' the chair, gun in hand faster than I'd have given him credit for. He just seemed so laid-back, I didn't think he'd ever move faster than a mosey. I was out o' my chair hot on his heels, my left hand grabbin' the front o' his shirt, my right clenched into a fist in front of his face. "Just try it, bub, an' see what it gets ya." I growled.

Christ stood slowly an' Orson started to whine in confusion. "Bobby, put the gun down. It won't help you, not with him. Besides, he's not becoming. I don't think he could even if we pumped him full of mom's virus." Bobby looked at Chris in confusion. "I'm serious. He's different. I think mom thought Logan could _help_ me."

Bobby lowered the gun an' I let him go. He slipped back into his chair an' a moment later, I followed suit. He took another drink o' his beer an' turned to me. "So, what's your story?"

Before I could answer, Chris did. "He's a mutant." Bobby put his beer on the table, his hand shakin' ever so slightly. "His body heals itself like nothing I've ever seen."

Bobby looked at me again. "I guess the gun wouldn't have done much then?" I shook my head. "Sharky." He grabbed his beer an' downed a third of it. "So you're the reason we're going back out there?" I nodded. "Why? If they did somethin' to you out there, it couldn't have been good."

"It's a long story, kid. I don't know if we have the time for all of it." I said. "Lets just say that someone stole the majority of my life an' I want it back. Part of it's out there at this Fort Wyvern." I took a long drink. "I don't give a fuck what they throw at me, I'll get what I want out o' them."

"What makes you think they'll give it to you?"

"Because I'm the best at what I do." I finished my beer. "An' what I do isn't very nice."

I didn't want to elaborate an' fortunately he didn't ask me to. He finished his beer an' turned to Chris. "Well, I guess that's it then. Let's go to Dead Town."

We piled into Bobby's jeep an' it wasn't until then that it occurred to me that Chris probably didn't even own a car or a license to drive it. With XP, he'd never be able to shield himself from the light of oncomin' cars. Hell, even the little bit of light that came from the instrument panel would eventually be deadly to him. When he turned on the jeep, I noticed that Bobby had his own instrument panel dimmed considerably, out of deference for his friends' condition. Put a point in the respect column for the kid.

Another thing I noticed was that he had a handgun sittin' on the passenger seat, which he casually put in his lap when he sat down. I had no idea what we were gettin' ourselves into, or why these two thought we had to go into a mostly abandoned military base armed to the teeth, but they were the ones with the experience 'round here an' I was forced to follow their lead.

I wound up sittin' in the back with Orson. Usually, travelin' with a dog in any vehicle is a fifty-fifty chance in the behavior department, but he simply sat there next to me, lookin' for all the world like a regular human passenger who was used to such things. It made me wonder if perhaps he was more than he appeared to be. I reached over an' stroked his head an' he simply turned an' looked at me, givin' another soft chuff before once again facin' the front of the jeep. Yeah, he's definitely an uncanny mutt.

After a few tense minutes, Bobby looked at me in the rearview. "So, mutant huh?"

"Yeah, why?" I asked, scowling.

"No reason. Never met one before." He drove in silence a few more minutes before lookin' at me again. "You surf?"

"Never tried."

"Well then, if we make it through this, I'll teach you myself."

"Don't worry 'bout it. Never wanted to learn."

"Dude, you don't know what you're missing! It's almost better than sex." Me an' Chris both stared at him. "I said almost." I grunted an' he grinned. "Besides, it'll give me something to look forward to, better'n the last time we were out here." He glanced over at Chris. "Right bro?"

"Dude, we could get full-on wasted by a tsunami and it would be better than last time." Chris said. "Let's try to remember that the Mystery Train isn't there anymore and stay alive this time, all right?"

Bobby caught my eye in the rearview again, but didn't offer to explain that last comment. Whatever the hell happened out there the last time wasn't somethin' that would have any bearin' on why they were takin' me out there now. But a thought did occur to me then an' I blurted it out before I could stop myself. "Hey, if you guys are so worried about all the weird shit comin' outta this base, how come you told me so much?"

They looked at each other briefly, then Bobby gave Chris a small nod. Snow turned around in his seat to face me. "Logan, the world's gonna end and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Hell, we can't even figure out a way to tell the rest of the world without getting ourselves killed." He looked down an' swallowed hard. "But someone has to know. Someone who's not stuck in Moonlight Bay for life."

"Someone like me?" He nodded an' I swore under my breath. "Why me?"

"For whatever reason, my mother trusted you. She told you more of what she was doing out there than she ever told me. You said you don't remember much and I believe that. But you were led here for a reason and I'd bet my surfboard that you'll remember what that reason is soon enough."

"Got more faith in me than I do, kid." I snorted an' held up a fist. "Remember these? They ain't there so I can trim my sideburns."

"You said my mother didn't have anything do with that."

"She didn't, far as I know. Can't see a lady like your mom bein' a part o' somethin' like that. Now, I don't really know what she was up to out here, only that I was a part of it somehow. But I'd be willin' to bet my motorcycle that whatever she got outta me, the rest o' the people there used it for somethin' else."

He stared me down for a few seconds before lookin' away. "I don't doubt that one bit, so that's a pretty safe bet for you. But I do know that whatever else happened out there, she did what she did to try and help me and that includes you. Way I see it, you're the only thing that's ever been to Fort Wyvern that isn't completely fucked."

"You just met me, kid. Give me a few days, I'll show ya how fucked I really am."

He shook his head an' looked at the dog. "Orson, will you tell this guy that he's not half as bad as he thinks he is?" I raised an eyebrow at that comment, but looked at the dog anyway. Incredibly, he met my eyes without any problem, not like any other animal I've ever met. It was a little weird, like he wasn't just lookin' at me, but somehow lookin' _through_ me. We just stared like that for a long moment, til finally he gave another of those soft chuffs, put his paw on my shoulder an' licked me full on the face. Chris laughed. "See? If you were really bad, he would've growled and bit you."

I glared at the dog, who seemed to be grinnin' at me, an' wiped off my face. "You seem pretty sure of yourself."

"I am, right Orson?" I glanced back at the dog an' he appeared to be noddin' in agreement. Yep, he's definitely an uncanny mutt.

About five minutes later, Bobby took the jeep down into a culvert that served as a storm drain. Central California isn't known for havin' a lot of rain annually, but what it lacks in frequency it makes up for in quantity when it does happen. So it's not uncommon to find these concrete riverbeds to handle the flow when it starts comin' down. As soon as he hit the bottom, Bobby killed the headlights an' entered a tunnel that led underneath the road above, usin' only the runnin' lights to see by. It soon became obvious that this tunnel was a lot longer than the road it cut beneath an' I was suddenly gripped by a touch of claustrophobia. Much as I hate to admit it, it reminded me of the tunnels beneath Alkali Lake an' my last memories of that place ain't too pretty. Finally, I saw a dim light ahead of us an' we came out o' the tunnel in front of a ten-foot tall fence that spanned the riverbed. Bobby doused the runnin' lights an' Chris hopped out an' unhooked a couple bits o' wire that held the fence in place, peelin' it back so we could drive through it. He hopped back in an' we drove about another fifty feet before Bobby took the jeep up the bank an' onto the road.

If I hadn't been told this place was abandoned, I wouldn't have known at first glance. Row after row o' small houses were lined up, about three thousand total I would find out later. But after a closer look an' a deep sniff, it was obvious these houses hadn't been occupied for some time, at least a decade if I had to guess. Paint was peelin' off the sides, lawns untended; I could see why they called this place Dead Town. We drove cautiously through the streets, finally stoppin' in what had been its downtown area, in front of a movie theatre that still had the word "WHO" on the marquee. Who indeed. The wind shifted a bit an' it carried the smell o' death on it. I looked around an' saw a huge pile o' dead birds in front o' the theatre, mostly gone to skeleton. I growled low in my throat.

"Dude, calm down." Bobby said as he switched off the jeep. "They've been there a while. Committed suicide."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

Chris nodded. "It's true. I was there when it happened, last time we were here." He looked over at the pile, his expression a little sad. "People aren't the only things becoming around here."

"Ya know, before I go into this place, I think you need ta explain what's really happenin' around here."

"That's why we're here, bro." Bobby said an' hopped out o' the jeep. "Welcome to Dead Town, ground zero of the Apocalypse."

* * *

**AN: **No one reviewed my last chapter...how very sad...but i'm not one of those people who'll hold my story hostage until someone finally comments on a chapter...personally, i think that's a crappy thing to do and it would never occur to me to do that...pout? Absolutely...:) But refuse to update because i didn't get a review? Rubbish! 

Anyway, we now have a trio of heroes and what exactly does Bobby mean by that cryptic last statement of his? What happened the last time he and Chris were out here? And what's up with Orson? Find out in the next chapter, which i will probably post in a week or so...:) It's the last one i have completed...after that, updates will be a bit slower, but i'll post each chapter as soon as i finish...:)

Super special thanks to all of you out there who at least READ the last chapter...i know there hasn't been a lot of action, but i swear it'll pick up soon enough...:)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Excuse me?" I said as I climbed out of the jeep. "Dahell you talkin' about?"

"End of the world, man." Bobby replied, hitchin' his shotgun to his shoulder. "It's all over, we're just waiting for the wave that wipes us out for the last time."

I took a look 'round me. As a setting for the end o' the world, it was certainly fitting. Tumbleweeds gathered in the doorways of the boarded-up businesses, a light wind blowin' through the streets scatterin' old papers an' feathers from the suicide flock, a loose shutter creakin' somewhere in the distance. Someone coulda made a fortune doin' night tours o' this haunted town an' I woulda been the first person to line up an' verify the truth o' that. The place was abandoned, but it wasn't resting.

I took a cigar out o' my pocket an' lit it up, inhaling deeply. "Bub, I think you better start at the beginnin'."

Chris sighed an' his dog gave a soft chuff. "Well, that would be me, I suppose." He said. "Obviously, my parents didn't know I had XP right away. I wasn't actually diagnosed until I was about four. I don't remember it much, but I found out later that they moved here to Moonlight Bay shortly after that. As I was growing up, they told me it was because Dad got offered a job teaching literature over at Ashdon College, which was true. The part they didn't tell me was that Mom had been offered a job here at the Fort. I always thought she taught biology and other sciences at the college.

"Anyway, you already know my mom was a theoretical geneticist. What you probably don't know is what she did out here." He took a deep breath an' looked up at the moon. "I didn't know either, not until about a year ago, just after my dad died. He wrote it all down for me, in case anything ever happened to him. Mom was working on a project that would enhance certain characteristics in animals, then people. Make them smarter or stronger, whatever. She invented kind of a retrovirus that contained the DNA of people and used it to insert that DNA into different animals, mostly monkeys, cats and dogs." Orson gave a thin whine an' I looked down at him. He was lookin' right back at me an' it seemed like he nodded in agreement. "But now that I've met you, I wonder if they didn't use some of your DNA in the experiment."

"Whattaya mean?" I asked an' flicked the ash off my cigar.

"Well, whenever someone uses a retrovirus like this, they use a crippled one that does whatever it is it does, then dies. From what I understand, Mom's virus did that at first, but at some point something happened and it didn't die. In fact, it got stronger, started mutating faster than they could keep up with it and it began taking DNA from the test subjects and inserting it into the people in the lab." He looked me in the eye with an expression kinda like regret. "Logan, the virus healed itself and there's not supposed to be any way for it to do that."

I felt the blood rush from my face an' I had a sudden urge to sit down. I stumbled over to the nearest curb an' collapsed, lookin' down at my feet. "She used my DNA to do that? On purpose?"

"No, I don't think so." He replied softly. "I think Mom was using the first part of the experiment to see if the virus would transfer DNA properly in the first place. Once she found out it did, I think she inserted your DNA into a strain that she planned to use on…to cure me." He sighed an' Orson whined again. I looked up at them an' Chris was crouched next to the dog, stroking him gently. "And I think that the idiots up here found that strain and in their infinite incompetence, they shot it full of other DNA too and injected it into the test animals, not knowing that it was a different strain."

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right for the military." I grunted, tossin' my cigar aside. "Just assume everythin's theirs for the takin', even people's lives." I shook my head an' scrubbed my hands over my face. "So, this new strain, it got out somehow?"

"Got it in one, my friend." Bobby said. "A rhesus escaped one day, attacked an old friend of ours. They managed to bag it and take it back, but it got out again and took some of its friends along with it." He shifted his gun to the other shoulder. "That first troop is real nasty, man. They'll kill you if they get the chance."

"I ain't so easy to kill, kid." I said an' stood up. "Better men than those monkeys have tried."

"That may be, but it still doesn't change the fact that they're not just vicious, they're SMART and vicious." Chris said. "And I don't just mean basic tool use and simple planning. They broke into a house one night while I was visiting a friend, killed her and set a fire to hide the evidence and try to kill me in the bargain."

"That's not all." Bobby added. "They stalked me for weeks, broke into my house and stole a camera I had out to try and get a picture of them. I bought one of those cheap disposable ones, left it out one night and they broke in and took that one too. And they left me a warning."

I snorted. "What, like a threatening note?"

"Kind of. They crapped on my bed. I think their meaning was pretty clear." He lowered the shotgun an' looked around. "A couple weeks later, they attacked us out at my house. We killed a bunch of them and got their leader in the bargain."

"President of the monkey union?"

"Actually no, it was a guy." Chris said. "One of the human test subjects to survive the experiments out here. I was told he was one of the few that made it out of there still sane, but what little I saw of him was enough to convince me otherwise." He stood up an' stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But we're way ahead of ourselves here. The first troop escaped and they couldn't get them back."

"There's more than one bunch of 'em out here?" I asked, surprised. "They didn't learn their lesson the first time?"

"No, they did. They must have engineered a less aggressive version of the rhesus, because they intentionally released another troop with transponders embedded in their skin to find the original troop. Within a few days, some of them chewed the devices out of each other. The rest found their way to Father Tom and he cut them out." He chuckled bitterly. "I don't know how they knew he'd help them, but they did. By then, the first troop had been out here for a little over three years, running rampant and breeding."

"So this second troop, what happened with 'em? They go native?"

"For the most part, but you can tell the difference between them even when they're together. It's like the second troop is a lot smarter than the first one. They tend to hang back when they attack, let the more aggressive ones go in and do the nasty business."

"Yeah, they're definitely military monkeys." Bobby said. "The smart ones stay back while the dumb grunts go on the front lines." Chris glared at him. "What? I'm just saying."

"I know, bro. But we're supposed to be telling this in some kind of order." Bobby shrugged an' Chris just shook his head before goin' on. "Anyway, it was a little after the first troop escaped that my Mom died. Her car crashed into a bridge abutment. They told me it was an accident, then later that she killed herself, but I think the people out here killed her, to keep her from telling anyone what happened.

"About a year and a half later, the base was decommissioned. After the end of the Cold War, they decided they didn't need it anymore. Just like that, over thirty thousand military personnel and their dependents were shipped all over the world, a lot of them infected with the new strain of the virus."

"Holy shit." I breathed. "Did they know?"

"No idea. It was over a year later that I even found out anything about what went on out here. Now it seems like everywhere I look, I see more people who are infected. The term that's used for it is 'becoming', but what it is they're becoming, we don't know."

"Mostly, they get really violent, fly into these rages that they can't control." Bobby said. "But we've seen people who had physical changes too, hands turned into lobster claws or their faces looking half animal. It's totally macking crazy."

I only half heard the last part o' his statement. I understood about flyin' into a rage that can't be controlled. Happens to me all the time an' I couldn't help but wonder if this was a part o' _me_ that these people had gotten from that virus. Bad enough to have been made into a fuckin' killin' machine by Stryker, but to have a part in a doomsday virus? It was almost too much to bear.

"…all right? Logan? You still with us?" Chris was standin' in front of me, lookin' worried. "Logan?"

"Yeah, I'm fine kid." I whispered. "So, is there anythin' else I should know?"

"Yeah, I suppose there is." He said. "It's not just evil that came out of all this. The Christmas right before she died, my Mom brought Orson home to me." I looked down at the mutt an' he was noddin' again. I raised an eyebrow an' looked back up to Chris. "She brought him out of the lab, I think. And he's not the only one. There's some really smart cats about too. One of them, Mungojerrie, he saved my ass right after my dad died, then saved a bunch of kids from a serial killer a few months later."

"You're shittin' me."

"Nope, it's all true." Bobby said an' walked over to us. "A friend's kid got snatched one night, took him right out of his bed. Grabbed a bunch of others and Orson too. Was gonna torch them all alive, but Mungojerrie led us right to them, out here at good old Fort Wyvern." He grew quiet an' looked down. "I don't remember this part, but Chris and his woman told me I died out here."

"You look pretty lively to me."

"He is now," Chris said, "but he really did die down there, shot through the chest. Remember that other project I told you about, Mystery Train?" I nodded. "Something happened with that too, I guess it was our fault. We kind of restarted the machine or whatever it was and it made time go all wonky on us. When we were on the way out with the kids and Bobby's…well, the elevator opened and I realized it was us in there, on our way down from before, so I grabbed him and shoved the other one into the elevator before the doors closed."

"You're sayin' you took him outta his place in time?" All three of them nodded an' I swore softly. "Ya know, I've seen an' heard o' a lotta shit in my day, but that's gotta be the craziest thing ever."

"Tell me about it, bro." Bobby said. "I mean, I don't even remember getting shot, but all of them from the kids to Snowman's woman told me it was true."

"So what happened after that?"

He shrugged. "We bugged out of there fast as we could and watched the whole warehouse it was underneath just vanish. Don't know if it went to another time line or if it's still out there underneath another base, but it sure as hell isn't here anymore."

"One thing we do know, it didn't take Mom's work with it." Chris said. "We still have vicious killer monkeys, super smart cats and dogs and people who are becoming all around us." He looked me in the eye again. "And now you're here."

"Followin' my dreams to the other side o' the country." I finished for him. "Now I know I'm crazy."

"No more than the rest of the world." He walked back over to the jeep an' climbed in, followed by Bobby an' Orson. "Come on, we'll get you as far as the warehouses. You'll have to see if you can scout out where they are on your own from there."

I walked back to the jeep an' took my seat next to the dog. I looked at him an' snorted. "So, you think I'm crazy?" He shook his head slowly an' I raised an eyebrow. "Then why the hell else would I be out here in the middle of Armageddon?" He sighed an' nosed my hand, then licked my knuckles like he had earlier at the house. He looked back up at me an' chuffed softly. Believe me or not, but I think I understood what he was sayin' to me. I was here to kill 'em all.

* * *

**AN:** Sorry this update took a while to get out, but my internet connection is unstable these days and the callers at work have been going above and beyond the call of duty in the "piss Rowena off" department...anyway, this is the last chapter i actually have uploaded on this story...i have more ready to go, but with the touchy connection, i'm not sure when i'll be able to do that...i might have to put what i have on a jump drive and see if i can't have my fiancee upload them for me or something...::shrug::

Many thanks to Levanna for reviewing the last chapter...my apologies to anyone familiar with the books this crosses with for this chapter, but i thought it would be wise to break down the backstory of Moonlight Bay for those NOT familiar with it...:)

Last, but not least, for those of you reading this until my next story in my main series is done...i'm nearing the end of it even as we speak...i anticipate having it ready to go within the next couple of weeks...also, i'm not sure my muse is as done with that saga as i previously thought...we'll just have to see...:)

**Please review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 2:**

"_Two you bait the line."_

Chapter 7.

They took me as far as the warehouse complex, which looked almost exactly the way I remembered it, with one exception. The large hangar that I'd had my hearin' an' eyesight tested in was just…gone. There was a slab there, like a buildin' had stood there at some point, but whatever had been above it was long gone. Chris explained that this was where they'd found the thing called Mystery Train, deep under the ground. Maybe the kid wasn't full of shit after all.

I hopped out o' the jeep an' Chris reached into his jacket to pull out his Glock. I scowled at him. "Dahell do I need that for?" I asked.

"If I'm right and Mom did use your DNA in the virus that's caused all this, then you might not be as immune to it as you think." He replied.

"Look kid, even if that's true, I ain't worried 'bout it. I don't plan on gettin' any closer to 'em than I have to tonight."

"It's not the people I'm worried about. It's the troop."

I just gave him a blank look. I've been shot in the head, stabbed Christ only knows how many times, thrown through the windshield of my own truck an' oh yeah, cut open an' pumped full o' an indestructible metal an' he wanted me to worry about a bunch o' monkeys? "Thanks kid, but you can keep it. I'm already armed, remember?"

He nodded. "All right. We'll meet you back at the river, unless you stay out here til sunrise. Then we'll be at my house."

"Gotcha. Thanks kid." He nodded once an' Bobby swung the jeep around. I watched it til the taillights were out o' sight, then turned back to the warehouse complex. He'd told me what he could on the way to this part o' the base, which wasn't much. Once the base had closed, he'd started pokin' 'round out here, tryin' to see if he could learn anythin' 'bout his mom's work. So far, he hadn't found anythin', said that there were whole laboratories underneath these warehouses that were stripped to the bare concrete. But, he also said the former police chief (now dead, but he didn't get into details on that) had told him that the base wasn't as closed as everyone thought it was. Somewhere in these hundred thousand plus acres was a lab full o' people desperately tryin' to find a way to stop what they had started.

The wind was still blowin' gently across the asphalt, tossin' small bits o' debris ahead o' it an' carryin' the smell o' the ocean on it. I closed my eyes an' tried to remember everythin' 'bout the day they'd tested my scenting ability, see if there were any areas I hadn't gone to. I'm certain that the ten soldiers I'd had to track woulda been told there were areas off-limits to 'em, so they wouldn't have even thought 'bout tryin' to hide in those places. Even without the hangar, I had a pretty good idea o' where I'd gone an' the only area that hadn't been included was in the northeastern part o' the base. I opened my eyes an' took a quick look 'round, then set off.

It didn't take long before I went beyond the parts Chris said he'd explored. Besides all the black-budget stuff that had obviously gone on here, this place had been used for basic training as well as more advanced programs in stuff like encryption an' weapon testin'. With over thirty thousand people stationed here, it was more than likely that most of 'em had no idea what had gone on underneath their feet an' probably would never know, unless they were among those who were becoming.

Becoming. The word itself was normally harmless enough, but with this new definition it sent chills down my spine. It was obvious the process was damn slow, since it had taken almost three years 'fore anyone had noticed anythin' was wrong in the first place. Then again, people do have an amazin' ability to ignore things that don't fit into their own ideas of what's normal, unless it's somethin' they can't help but see. These were the thoughts goin' through my head as I stalked silently through the barracks area, slippin' from shadow to shadow just in case anyone was watchin'. The wind shifted to the north an' I stopped dead when I caught a strange scent.

I looked out across the overgrown lawn in front o' the barracks, scannin' the buildings around me for any sign of a follower, but nothin' jumped out at me right away. It wasn't til I was 'bout ready to move on that I caught a flash o' motion out the corner o' my eye an' I turned to it, ready to pop my claws if I needed to. Sittin' on top o' a boulder in the middle of the green was a monkey, but this one was about as different from the one I'd seen earlier as it could get an' still be called a monkey. It had the general look of a rhesus, but it was a lot bigger, maybe four feet tall. But the most disturbin' thing about it was its head. It was too far away for me to get a good enough look to get an exact size, but its head was about average for a human o' my height. No matter how you slice it, that's way too big for a four-foot body.

After watchin' it for a few minutes an' decidin' it wasn't a threat, I started to turn to continue my search, but soon as I moved the monkey turned his head an' I swear it looked right at me. I froze in place, not sure if it could see me or not. Just by lookin' at it, you could tell that it wasn't a normal monkey in the first place an' with everythin' that Chris an' Bobby – an' even Orson, in his own way – had told me, I could count on nothin' I knew 'bout the species in the first place. So, we stood there, starin' each other down for about five minutes before it opened its mouth an' made a sound that sent a new chill down my spine because it was so unmistakably _human_.

Now I understood more than I had just a few minutes before what they'd meant when they told me people weren't the only ones becoming around here. Whether this monkey had been born this way or had _become_ this way, it didn't matter. That sound told me that it knew what it was an' it was unhappy with its life. No matter what I may have felt about my life, no matter if I've thought an' even been told that I'm nothin' but an animal, I've always had the ability to speak o' the things I've seen an' done. But to be trapped in the body of a real animal without the means to do that would be a far worse torture than anythin' that's been done to me an' I felt a huge swell of pity for this creature in front o' me.

Finally, the monkey looked away from me an' hopped down from the boulder. It sprinted across the green in the general direction that I'd been headed an' stopped 'bout thirty feet away before turnin' its head to look at me again. I cocked my head but didn't move out o' my shadows, even though I knew it knew where I was. After about a minute, it sat down an' looked towards the northeast before turnin' back to me an' makin' that human sound again. I took a step forward an' it stood up, so I stopped again. I heard it sigh an' it sat back down an' stared at me. I realized then that it wanted me to follow it.

Now, no matter what anyone thinks about me, I am not stupid. In fact, I'm a lot smarter than a lot o' people – okay, mostly One-Eye – give me credit for. So even though the front o' my brain was tellin' me that followin' this thing was an incredibly dumb thing to do, my backbrain instincts were tellin' me just the opposite. Had this thing wanted to attack me, it had ample opportunity when I'd first seen it on the green, then again when it took off down the road. There was always the chance that this was one o' the smart monkeys that let the more aggressive ones do the wet work, but I really didn't get that feelin' off o' it. I told my front brain to fuck off an' crept cautiously forward.

When I got within about ten feet of it, it dashed forward again an' waited for me to catch up. I still looked around as I followed it, but everythin' was pretty much the way I remembered it from the trackin' exercise I'd done out here all those years ago. I didn't catch any other unusual scents; it was like this monkey an' I were the only things left alive in the whole world, which was more than a little unnerving. Still, I followed it for about fifteen minutes in this way, til we finally came upon an open field beyond the last o' the barracks.

The grass in the field stood 'bout three feet tall, plenty long enough to hide a troop o' evil killer monkeys, but I couldn't smell anythin' an' the moonlight was more than bright enough to give away any movement through the growth. I crept forward in a crouch, my eyes an' ears wide open. When I got close to it again, the monkey suddenly whirled 'round an' scurried up a drainpipe on the side o' the nearest barracks to the roof. It looked down at me, then back across the field. Well, it'd gotten me this far, might as well go all the way. I didn't think the pipe would support my weight, but the building was made o' cinderblock, so I popped my claws an' used them to climb up to the roof.

By the time I got up there, the monkey had already crossed to the other side. I looked at it one last time an' it made that eerie human sound again before grabbin' the drainpipe on that side an' disappearin'. It was clear that it had taken me as far is it meant to an' I silently thanked it for its help. I crouched as low as I could at the edge o' the roof an' scanned the field in front o' me. The building was only about four stories tall, but it gave me a pretty good view o' the area around me. I wasn't sure what the monkey had wanted me to see, but I had a feelin' I'd know it when I saw it. Half an hour later, I was proven right when I heard the sound o' a chopper comin' in from due north o' where I was sittin'. Instinctively, I pressed myself down flat on the roof as I watched it land. Somewhere beyond the edge of my vision was a landin' pad for this aircraft, which meant there was also someplace for people to go once they got outta it. The tall grasses that made up the field provided all the cover needed to conceal this landin' pad, which meant I would eventually have to figure out a way to get out there myself without bein' seen.

But that wasn't now. Now was simply recon. The landin' pad was for later, after I'd had more time to consider everythin' goin' on in this town. Right now was time to get back to Bobby, Chris an' Orson. I crept 'cross the roof to the other side an' used my claws to get back down, then took off at a jog. No sense in stayin' 'round here any longer than I had to.

The three of 'em were still sittin' in the jeep when I showed back up, kicked back an' drinkin' beers. Without askin', Chris handed me one an' I popped it open, finishin' a third o' it right off. They had the radio on, just barely loud enough for 'em to hear it. I was about to tell 'em what I'd learned when the DJ broke in for some between-songs patter. "That was 'Riders on the Storm' for those few people who didn't know. I'm Sasha Goodall and I'll be here til dawn with more mood music for you nightowls." Her voice was rich an' smooth as silk, one o' the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard. I looked over at Chris an' he had a look o' pure bliss on his face. He caught my glance an' smiled. "Sounds good, don't she?" He asked me.

I nodded. "Great voice, that's for sure. But if she's like all the other DJ's in the world, she don't look half as good as she sounds." Chris just smiled as Bobby burst out laughin'. "What?"

"Dude, she looks TWICE as good as she sounds." Bobby said, finishin' off his beer. "Maybe even three times."

"Nah, more like a thousand times." Chris said. "She's my girlfriend."

I raised my beer in a toast. "Lucky man."

"Luckiest ever." He replied, raisin' his own bottle and takin' a drink. "So, you see anything interesting?"

"Plenty, but I don't wanna talk about it here."

He nodded an' we all piled back into the jeep an' made our way back down the riverbed to a spot where Bobby could take it back onto the road. I expected him to take us back to Snow's house, but instead he turned to the west an' went right out o' the town limits til we got to a stretch o' beach. He took the jeep right onto the sand an' drove out across the dunes til we got to a peninsula where a single house sat. He pulled up beside it, shut the jeep off an' jumped out. "Welcome to my humble abode, mi amigo."

"No shit? This is great." I took a look 'round an' breathed in the fresh salty tang of the ocean. I love livin' at the mansion with Xavier, Storm an' the others, but deep down I'll always prefer isolation over anythin' else. Given a choice, I'll go to the mountains or nice forest somewhere, but if I could find myself a little place near the ocean like this, it would be damn near the top o' my list of places to take off to when the need to be alone is too great to be ignored.

Bobby smiled an' led us 'round the front o' the house. "Just wait here man, I'll be right back." I shrugged an' stood facin' the ocean. In the moonlight, the waves breaking on the shore looked black, tipped with silver where the foam was kickin' up. The steady pulse was hypnotic an' I could see why a surfer like Bobby Holloway would love livin' out here like this, away from everyone else. He came back a few minutes later with three beers, handin' 'em all around. Orson whined thinly an' looked at Bobby. "No way, my furry bro. You already had one tonight." The dog whined again an' licked his chops, lookin' at the bottle in Bobby's hand with undisguised longing. "Uh-uh, not gonna happen. You know how you get." Orson snorted an' turned his back on Bobby.

I couldn't help but grin. "I think he's pissed at you, bub."

"Yeah well, it happens." He replied. "Come on, we'll talk out here." He stepped off the porch an' led us the nearest dune, then sat down right in the sand. I followed suit, but Chris remained standing for a moment, wavin' to Orson to come on over. The dog refused for a bit, probably still sore because he'd been unable to trick Bobby into givin' him another beer. He finally joined us, but wouldn't look at Holloway. Bobby turned to me. "So, what'd you see out there?"

I gave 'em a quick rundown o' everythin' that had happened. When I got to the part 'bout the monkey, Chris nodded an' Bobby said "Big Head" like it was a name, but didn't seem surprised that it had helped me. They _were_ surprised when I told 'em 'bout the chopper. "We didn't hear anything." Chris said, lookin' confused. "Sound like that, it would carry."

"Listen, I was about as far as ya could get on that base an' still be within the perimeter." I said. "Besides, I got better hearin' than you do an' it was pretty far out. Hell, I woulda never seen it myself if that monkey hadn't led me there."

"Big Head." Bobby spat an' took a swig o' his beer. "Major geek. You'd think he'd be the worst of all of them."

"But he helped us before too, remember?" Chris replied. "He left me that Mystery Train cap and that picture of my mom. He left _us_ that security badge." He glanced over to me an' smirked. "It's funny, really. They call people like you 'mutant freaks' all the time, but Big Head really _is_ one. Whatever he is, it was done to him. You can't help the way you born any more than I can."

I snorted an' finished off my beer. "Yeah well, I had shit done to me too, remember?" I said, holdin' up my fist. "Maybe Big Head could sense it somehow, knew we had somethin' in common that way."

"Dude, you keep saying that and you hold up your fist every time." Bobby said. "Do I even _want_ to know what that means?"

I raised my eyebrow as Chris fell over laughin'. "Has anyone ever told ya that ya have a sick sense o' humor?" I asked.

"All the time, but I'm dead serious about this. What's the deal with the, um, fist thing?"

"Bobby, it's not what you're thinking bro." Chris said, catchin' his breath. "He was experimented on, a long time ago."

"What, out at Wyvern?"

"No, after that." I replied. "Bastard named Stryker up in Canada cut me open, covered my skeleton with metal. An' he gave me these." I held up my fist an' popped my claws.

Bobby yelped an' jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "Holy shit, dude!" He shouted.

I slid my claws back slowly. "Yeah, I've gotten a lot o' that."

He sat back down, a little shaky. "No wonder you didn't want the gun."

"Don't need 'em." I said, rubbin' my knuckles. "I am the weapon."

"Fuck man, I thought all you Canadians had was hockey and good beer."

"Oh, Stryker was American. Dunno if the Canadian government even had anythin' to do with what happened to me." I swallowed hard an' looked out over the ocean again. "I don't remember much o' my life before 'bout fifteen years ago, 'cept some flashes of 'em puttin' this metal in me an' now a little 'bout this Fort Wyvern out here."

"Do you think Stryker knew you were a mutant, even back then?"

"I'd bet on it. He needed someone who would survive his 'procedure' an' can you see a normal person livin' through somethin' like that?" He shook his head. "Exactly. So, I'm thinkin' he made up a bullshit story 'bout the joint task force just to get me down here so the people doin' the genetic experiments could analyze my mutation an' make sure I was the best choice for his own project."

"Jesus. If I thought I could, I'd get the hell out of this place man, go to Hawaii with Pia and surf my life away with her." Pia, I would find out later, was Pia Klick, the girl he was in love with an' she loved him too. She'd taken off one day to Waimea Bay, Hawaii to meditate, said she'd be gone a coupla months. That was over two years ago. One day, she called Bobby an' told him she'd discovered she was the current reincarnation of Kaha Huna, the Hawaiian goddess o' the surf. Because o' this, she had to remain celibate in order to keep herself pure enough to deserve the honor. A few weeks later, she told him that further meditation showed her that she could break that vow only for the current reincarnation of Kahuna, the Hawaiian god of the surf, hintin' that it was none other than Bobby who had that honor. Bobby still hadn't agreed with her on that point, simply because he loved her too much to lie to her just to be with her. I can respect that.

But I'm gettin' ahead o' myself. I looked over at him an' grunted. "Maybe you should, kid. Save yourself a world of trouble."

He shrugged. "Can't do it, bro. Except for Pia, everything I love best is right here." He glanced over at Chris an' I wondered how a sun lovin' surf bum had ever hooked up with a guy whose entire life was lived at night. But I've seen too much weird shit in my life to actually ask the question. Bobby finished off his beer an' rolled the bottle between his hands for a bit. "So, what's our next move?"

I tossed back the last of my own beer an' set the bottle down next to me. "You ain't got a next move, kid. This is all on me now."

"Hell no!" He shouted an' sprang to his feet. "We're already ass deep in the shit out at that place, especially Chris. If there's something out there, we want in."

"Listen kid…Bobby…I understand that these people fucked up your town, but you ain't exactly trained to take 'em on. They shot ya once an' it was only luck an' a weird ass time machine that got ya outta that one. They kill you again, it's gonna stick."

"We sure as hell aren't letting you go in there alone," Chris said quietly. "Besides, we'll bring backup."

I snorted. "Like who? Mungojerrie the talkin' cat?" I shook my head an' stood up, brushin' the sand off my jeans. "Sorry, but I ain't takin' civilians with me."

"Well, I'm not really sure they qualify as 'civilians', really. Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you."

Shit, here it comes. "What?"

"Meet us at my house tomorrow at sundown and you can tell our friends your story. If they think they can help and they can convince you that they can handle it, then we all come with you, all right?"

I turned it over in my head. I had no idea who he was plannin' on callin' in, unless his friends were mutants too an' he didn't tell me 'bout it, but I figured it couldn't hurt to humor him. "Fine. But don't hold your breath."

"I won't. But you should be prepared to be surprised."

* * *

**AN:** I just realized i hadn't updated this in a while, so here's another chapter for ya..:) I've been madly finishing my other story, the 5th installment in my epic saga, called "Prodigal Children"...this story is unrelated, but i've been told the others are a pretty good read...:) At any rate, special thanks to all my readers and especially my reviewers, who were Tahlmorra, Trackdog and Levanna...:) Tahlmorra: GO! NOW! Get those books as soon as you can...they're in my top 10 favorite books of all time and scary as all get out...you'll love 'em! Trackdog: I pm'ed you about that, but i'm not sure those are getting through, so i'll answer you here too...:) Yes, i know that Logan tops 300 pounds because of the metal...Doogie really is that big...:) Koontz doesn't seem to give a hard and fast weight for him, but by description, i guessed that 75 pounds was pretty accurate...but don't think he's soft! Not by a longshot, which you'll learn later in the story...:) Levanna: You won't see this for months, but i'm gonna miss you! Have fun over the summer and pm me when you get back and tell me all about it!

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

_"Well Major, you've really impressed everyone here with your talents," Dr. Snow said as she sat down across from me. "Now, I have a few questions I'd like to ask about your healing factor."_

_"Save your breath, doctor," I replied as I lit a cigar. "I heal fast from everythin', I don't get sick an' most toxins don't work on me. In fact, if ya find a drug or a poison I haven't been exposed to, it'll only work once at regular strength. It adapts to everythin' eventually."_

_"I see." She made a few more notes on that clipboard o' hers, then looked back at me. "Do you know if it has any effect on genetic anomalies?"_

_I snorted bitterly. "Lady, I _am_ a genetic anomaly, or did ya forget that already?"_

_"Major, regardless of what the popular opinion on mutation may be, I do not look at you that way. Genetic mutations have been occurring for decades, which you are living proof of. But the sad truth is that most genetic mutations are not nearly as kind as the ones that those who are referred to as 'mutants' have. By definition, a person who is considered an albino is a mutant, for example, but there's no explaining that to most people."_

_"Most albinos don't have claws or read minds either," I pointed out. "Back in the middle ages, people born with extra fingers an' toes were considered evil an' the babies killed, but now we know it's just a mutation."_

_"Exactly my point." She leaned forward an' put her clipboard on the table between us. "Did you know that about a tenth of a percent of all babies are born with one or both of their small toes underdeveloped or simply missing? Some doctors consider it a birth defect, but my research indicates that it's simply part of the evolutionary process. I could cut the small toes off of everyone stationed at this base and it wouldn't have any adverse affects to their ability to stand or walk. It's an unnecessary appendage and we are starting to get rid of it. Now, I haven't done much research into mutation as a whole, but just as we had an evolutionary leap thousands of years ago that eventually allowed us to become _homo sapiens_ in the first place, there is no reason to believe that the X gene is anything other than another leap."_

_"Look, I get what you're sayin', but it don't change the fact that mutants will always be considered monsters to most o' you normal humans."_

_"But not to me." She folded her hands an' took a deep breath like she was steelin' herself for what she was about to say. "Major, you have a remarkable gift. I believe that it may be possible to isolate your healing factor and use it to generate cures for diseases that are currently incurable, even those that are caused by genetic anomalies. If possible, I would like your permission to try doing just that."_

_I let out a long stream of smoke an' stubbed out my cigar. For a hundred years, I'd felt like some kinda monster, this thing that was more animal than man half the time, all instinct an' rage. This healin' factor had kept me alive way past when I shoulda been worm food an' it always felt like a kind o' curse, somethin' that wouldn't let me die even when I wanted to. Now, for the first time in a century, I had someone lookin' at me not like a freak, not like a monster, but like someone who could save more people than I'll ever know, no matter how long I lived. For the first time, it didn't feel like a curse. "Dr. Snow, if you think ya got a chance in hell o' makin' it work, go for it. Ain't like it could hurt anyone, right?"_

_"Thank you, Major. I promise, you won't regret this."_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I woke up sweatin' bullets, a sick feelin' in the pit o' my stomach. Dr. Wisteria Snow, Chris's mom, had no idea what she was talkin' about back then. I was a fool to think that anyone connected with the military would ever use any part o' me for somethin' good. But in her defense, she didn't know what would happen then, she couldn't have known. But that's the problem with most doctors – they like to play god, even though they're only human.

I threw the covers off me an' went to take a shower. I'd only been asleep about five hours, which is somethin' of a miracle for me, but I couldn't stand the smell o' myself anymore. Besides, I was a little shaken up over that conversation I'd just remembered. An' there was the part where I didn't know if I should say anythin' to Chris about it. That memory was all the proof I needed that she was really tryin' to help her son, tryin' to find a way to give him a life that he could live in the light. But the fact remained that she'd unknowingly been the architect o' destruction an' I was the main building block. To say it made me feel sick is a major understatement.

I stood in the shower til the water started to get too cold, even for me, an' I still hadn't made up my mind what I should tell him. Dr. Snow had had the best o' intentions, creatin' that virus to cure her son an' who knows how many other people, but it sent her to hell all the same. I shut off the water an' wrapped one o' the scratchy motel towels around my waist. When I got back into the main part o' the room, I had the strangest feelin' that I was bein' watched. I pulled on a pair o' clean boxers an' proceeded to search every inch o' the place an' I didn't find anythin' like a bug or a camera, but I couldn't shake the feelin'. I chanced a peek out the window an' I didn't see anythin' right away, but a second later somethin' jumped up on the narrow sill on the outside an' I leaped back from the window.

I slid my claws out slowly on my right hand to minimize the noise an' peeked out again, suddenly afraid it might be one o' those homicidal monkeys, but sittin' there, neat as ya please, was a pale gray cat. It stared at me for a long moment before pawin' at the glass an' jumpin' down. I craned my head to see where it went, but it was long gone. I shook my head an' let the curtain fall back into place; Orson made me believe in really smart dogs an' Big Head proved the really smart monkey theory, but a really smart cat? I just wasn't ready to believe in that.

More fool me. I finished gettin' dressed an' opened the door to leave. As I stepped out, my foot came down on somethin'. I stepped back an' bent down, then picked up the laminated card that was sittin' there. The name on it read "Colonel Mitchell Barton" an' sure enough, there was a picture o' ol' Old Spice Barton himself on it. At the bottom was a bar code an' a magnetic stripe with a number was the only thing on the back. Damned if that cat hadn't given me just what I would need to move through the active parts o' the base freely. The world had been a weird enough place without all o' this, but this town had its own special corner on the weird market. I shook my head an' smiled, shovin' the key card in my jacket pocket. I locked the door behind me, got on my bike an' took off.

I rode around aimlessly for a while, tryin' to get a feel for the town itself. Everywhere from one stoplight villages to huge cities has its own general atmosphere, a strange combination o' the people who live there, the places they work an' the way it's set up. Moonlight Bay felt almost artificial, a façade to hide a deeper problem. The people seemed to have a kind o' wariness 'bout them that one usually doesn't find in small towns. You have to expect a certain amount, since most towns this size tend to be close knit, an "everyone knows everyone else" kinda thing, so outsiders are usually viewed with some caution. But this was different, nothin' I could really put my finger on, but there all the same. I woulda thought a town that gets a pretty decent tourist trade in surfers if nothin' else would be a little less hesitant 'bout a stranger in town, but maybe the fact that I am obviously _not_ a surfer added to the strange looks I got everywhere I went. Or maybe it's just 'cause I'm paranoid.

I finally got hungry an' stopped at a diner I'd noticed the night before. The waitress looked the same as dozens o' others that work at small diners like this, with carrot colored hair piled on top o' her head, pale blue uniform, crackin' a piece o' gum like it was goin' outta style. She brought me a glass o' water an' a menu. "Just holler when you're ready to order honey," she said with a wink. I just nodded an' she went away. I was lookin' over the menu when the cell phone in my pocket chirped loudly. I scowled an' pulled it out. "Yeah?" I said, annoyed.

"Is that any way to answer the phone?" Marie chided. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

I grinned. "I don't know, kid, I don't remember her." I noticed the waitress lookin' over at me, so I turned away an' lowered my voice. "Is somethin' wrong?"

"No, I was just checkin' to see if you'd gotten in trouble yet."

I rolled my eyes an' sighed. "An' why would you think I'd get in trouble in the first place?"

"Logan, get real." I could almost hear her rollin' her eyes. "This is _you_ we're talkin' about. If you ain't lookin' for trouble, then it's lookin' for you."

"Hey now! That ain't entirely true."

"Hmm, let me go through some of these bits of you I have floatin' around in my head and then we'll see."

I groaned. "Forget it kid. You don't wanna see more'n you already have."

"Yeah, you're probably right." I heard someone in the background, Kitty I think, tellin' her it was her turn in the bathroom. "Whoops, I gotta go."

"Sure thing kid. An' Rogue?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me unless it's an emergency, all right? It ain't that I don't wanna talk to ya, it's just I might be somewhere that I can't talk, okay?" Or where a cell phone ringin' might give me away, but I didn't say that part out loud.

She sighed an' I thought she was gonna argue with me, but surprised me when she didn't. "All right, I won't. But you promise me you'll call the Professor if ya need help or somethin', all right? Let us help you if we can."

"I ain't gonna need help, Rogue."

"You don't know that! Who knows what'll happen if you find what you're lookin' for out there?"

"All right, if it'll make ya feel better, I'll call if I run into anythin' I can't handle myself."

"Good. I gotta run. Take care Logan."

"You too kid." I closed the phone an' stuck it back in my pocket with a shake o' my head. There was no way I was gonna call the X-Men for any reason on this one. For one thing, I didn't need the help. For another, I really didn't wanna expose 'em to whatever this virus was out here. I didn't know if it was airborne or not, so better safe than sorry in my mind.

The waitress wandered back over to take my order, then brought my drink a minute later. I sat back in the booth, keepin' one eye on the diner, the other out the window to watch the people out there. From in here, it almost looked normal, but I still had that naggin' feelin' that it was all a pose. Maybe most o' the people in this town had no idea that they lived at ground zero of some nasty shit, but I seriously doubted that Chris an' Bobby were the only ones who knew everythin'. The trick would be findin' someone else willin' to talk to me 'bout it.

My food arrived a few minutes later an' I dug in, lettin' my attention wander from people watchin'. I glanced up whenever I heard the bell over the door ring, which wasn't often, but I dismissed everyone until the third time it happened. I was nearly done with my Western omelet when a couple uniformed cops came wanderin' in, sittin' down at the counter just a few feet from my booth. They spared a long glance at me before turnin' to the waitress behind the counter to place their own orders an' I kept half an ear turned to 'em, but kept my attention on my own plate. If they didn't fuck with me, I wouldn't fuck with them. I don't like cops at the best o' times, but I don't go outta my way to tangle with 'em either. I counted the seconds til they decided to question the new face in town an' they set a landspeed record. Took 'em ten whole seconds.

They turned as one to face me an' the one on the left, a big Hispanic guy with the name "Ramirez" on his nametag, spoke first. "You're new in town."

I looked up with a scowl. "You talkin' to me?"

"Yeah, I'm talking to you. What're you here for?"

"Vacation."

"Hm. Where you from?"

I shoved my empty plate aside an' picked up my soda. "Canada."

"I see. That your bike out there?"

"Yeah it is, why?"

His partner, whose nametag said he was "Feeney" picked up the thread. "If you're Canadian, why's it got New York plates?"

"That's where I'm livin' now."

"And what do you do out there in New York?"

I reached into my pocket, retrieved my wallet an' threw some money on the table before standin' up. "I'm a teacher," I said an' managed to do so with a straight face.

The two cops looked at each other an' Feeney snorted, but it was Ramirez who spoke. "You don't look like a teacher."

"Yeah well, we come in all shapes an' sizes nowadays." I went to move past 'em, but Feeney suddenly stood, blockin' my path. "Is there a problem officer?" I asked, just a hint o' growl in my voice.

"I don't know," he replied, pullin' himself up to his full height, which was still a few inches shorter than me. "Never heard of a teacher that could afford a bike like that."

"I work at a private school," I said, looming over him just a bit. "They pay better."

Ramirez joined his partner an' crossed his arms. "How about we run the plates and see for ourselves?"

"Be my guest," I hissed

The three o' us stood there for a moment, the tension so thick I coulda cut it with my claws, but it was Ramirez who backed down first. "You just watch yourself around here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?" Oh, I really hoped so.

"Call it a friendly warning."

"Right." I shouldered past 'em to the cash register an' paid my bill while the two of 'em sat back down. The waitress gave me a smile an' I turned to leave.

As I pushed the door open, Feeney spoke up again. "We'll be watching you."

I turned back to 'em with a scowl. "Ditto." I shoved my way outta the diner an' walked to my bike. I could feel their eyes on me the whole time an' I resisted the urge to flip 'em off as I rode off. Barely.

I still had a good long time til sundown, at least seven hours, but I couldn't see myself sittin' 'round in my motel room all that time an' this town just wasn't big enough to ride around til then. I headed out to the open highway, hopin' to burn off some o' my anger with speed.

I rode til I was pretty sure I was outta Moonlight Bay's jurisdiction, then found myself a nice open stretch o' highway an' opened her up. I didn't bother with the turbo boost thing that Cyke had installed on the bike – she's pretty fast without it anyway – but I did top out the speedometer on more'n one occasion an' I think I nearly scared a coyote to death when I whizzed past it. I rode like that til the sun was 'bout halfway set before turnin' back towards town. I wanted to get a shower an' some dinner before meetin' up with Chris, Bobby an' their mysterious friends.

When I got back to my motel room, the manager was waitin' outside my door. "Mr. Sharpe, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He seemed a bit edgy, lookin' everywhere but directly at me. "Is there a problem?" Second time I had to ask that in one day an' I was already tired of it.

"The police were here asking about you, they seem to think you might be some kind of drug dealer or something."

I chuckled under my breath. Of all the things I've been mistaken for, this was the first time drug dealer came up. "I promise, I ain't no drug dealer. Drugs are stupid." An' they don't affect me anyway, so what's the point?

"Still, would you mind if I looked around your room a bit? I didn't let them in before, but if I could tell them there was nothing there…" He trailed off, lookin' even more uncomfortable than before.

I had nothin' to hide. At least, nothin' he'd find in the room. "Sure bub, go ahead." I unlocked the door an' he followed me inside. Housekeepin' had been by while I was gone an' the bed was made with almost military precision, fresh towels sittin' on the counter just outside the bathroom. I tossed my keys on the scarred dresser, then sat down on the edge o' the bed while the manager made his inspection. I had no worries that he'd find anythin'; I hadn't smelled any planted drugs or weapons when I walked in, so at least no one was settin' me up. Yet.

He ended his tour in the bathroom an' came out lookin' beyond relieved. "Sorry about that, Mr. Sharpe."

"Hey, no problem. I know how I look." I pulled off my boots an' stood up. "Looks can be deceivin' though, right?"

"Sure thing. Have a good night." He left the room an' I locked the door behind him. I still wasn't sure if this guy was totally on the up an' up, but til I had a little more than a suspicion, I wasn't gonna confront him with anythin'.

I peeled off my clothes, tossin' 'em in a heap on the floor an' went to take my shower. I started the water runnin', but instead o' jumpin' right in, I did a quick sweep o' the room. With everythin' that had happened in the short time I'd been in Moonlight Bay, I wasn't leavin' anythin' to chance anymore. Yeah, the maid had been through, but what guarantee did I have that she hadn't planted somethin' in here anyway, like a bug? Lettin' the water run in the background would help cover any sounds that I made, an' since I was naked, there wouldn't even be the sounds of my clothes rustling to give away my movements. Not for the first time, my paranoia paid off an' I found bugs under the phone, on the lamp an' even one in the drawer that held those Bibles that appear from nowhere. I considered takin' 'em an' flushin' 'em down the toilet, but I paused. I really didn't have this room for anythin' more'n the occasional shower an' nap, so it wasn't like they'd learn anythin' from me. An' if it came down to it, I could probably crash at Chris or Bobby's if I felt my room wasn't safe. I decided to just leave 'em where they were; if they wanted to use 'em to come for me, let 'em come. I wasn't afraid of 'em.

I took my shower an' got dressed again, makin' as much noise as I could. When nothin' happened in half an hour, I left the room an' went to get some dinner at the same diner I'd gone to for breakfast. The sun was just settin' as I finished up, so I set out for Chris' house an' the meeting with these friends that he thought could help us out. I still didn't know if I wanted to involve any more civilians in this thing, but they'd all been to the base an' if Chris an' Bobby were to be believed, they'd had some pretty weird ass shit happen to 'em out there. Maybe they'd be all right, maybe they wouldn't, but it really wasn't my problem. I just wanted to get into that lab an' see what they still had on me. With or without 'em, I didn't care.

* * *

**AN:** Hey everyone...i saw that i had a TON of reviews and thought "holy crap! when was my last update?" So, here it is...:) Thanks everyone for piping up with your thoughts, i really appreciate it! Andromeda Jones: I have NO idea what 300lbs is in kilos! Ummm, a lot:) mychemicalromancefreak29: Thanks for the compliment! You're making me blush:) CaptMacKenzie: Good to see you here! Let's see if i can answer your questions...:) 1) Orson belongs to Dean Koontz...but he's not even Koontz's coolest dog ever! He's in another story...:) Re: Time travel...they didn't know that's what the thing did...in the book, the people at the base invented the device AFTER the plague got out, so they could see what the future would hold...but they screwed up and it didn't just go through time, but space...it's described as "sideways", and isn't really important to the story here, so i'm not bothering with much more than that...:) Re: Logan's DNA and the virus...The animal DNA is actually from the lab animals (dogs and cats mostly, though now that it's gotten out you could add a whole lot more)...the virus itself was supposed to be crippled, but the batch with Logan's DNA in it healed itself...i'll get into a little more with that later...:) Chris trusts Logan because of his mother...Bobby trusts Logan because of Chris...and they both trust Logan because Orson does...remember, "animals know things"...:) Yes, they're trying to find a cure for the plague, but the fact remains that Logan's not always rational when it comes to the people who did what they did to him...also, keep in mind that just because someone SAYS they want to cure it, doesn't mean that's the whole truth...again, more on that later...:) As for drinking beer and blasting the radio, well...that's really how they are...at least the way they seem to me from the books...after all, if YOU knew the world was ending, would you run around all "Oh Lordy!", waving your hands about, or would you try to grab what joy you could before the end? That's Chris and Bobby in a nutshell...:) You should think about picking these books up some time...they're in my top 10 favorites of all time!

**That's all for now, please review!**


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